piiMiiiiiliiwiiiiiiiiwiiiiiiww'''  "i  iiKii,  miiii  Tiiiiiiii  Miiiiumi 


LIBRARY 

OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Received       j^N     4     1893 ^^9 

Accessions  No.  HQ  ^2-  /    .  Class  No. 


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THE    CHILD. 


*    THE  CHILD: 


BY 


MONSEIGNEUR    DUPANLOUP, 


Bishop  of  Orleans. 


TRANSLATED,  WITH  THE  AUTHOR'S  PERMISSION, 


KATE     ANDERSON 


'TJHI7BESITY; 


boston: 

THOMAS     B.    NOON  AN    &    CO. 


3 


AUTHORIZATION 


25  Fev.,  1873. 
St.  Hyeres, 

Var. 


Madame, 

Je  siiis  fort  touche  de  la  bonne  lettre  que  vous 
avez  bien  voulu  m'ecrire,  et  je  consens  bien  volon- 
tiers  a  ce  que  vous  me  demandez. 

Je  vous  benis  bien  paternellement  en  Notre  Sei- 
gneur. 

*i*  F.  EvEQUE  d' Orleans. 


14^"^^ 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 


Being  desirous  that  all  Parents  and  Teachers  in 
my  country  should  have  the  advantage  of  the  high 
theory,  and  the  useful  and  practical  instructions, 
respecting  the  education  of  the  Child,  contained  in 
this  Treatise,  I  have  ventured  on  translating  it.  If 
my  close  adherence  to  the  text  be  not  consistent 
with  what  critics  designate  pure  and  classical  Eng- 
lish, I  trust  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  this  great 
Bishop's  language  will  be  considered  sufficient  ex- 
cuse. 

I  have  the  honor  to  remain, 

The  Translator. 


y^^'   OP  THR      '^ 

[TJHIVERSITTl 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


Having,  after  long  study  and  laborious  experi- 
ence, sought,  by  the  most  profound  reflection,  to 
discover  what  the  two  fundamental  rules  in  educa- 
tion were,  I  have  found  them  to  be  authority  and 
respect.  For  this  reason,  I  consider  I  ought  to 
place  these  two  words,  so  important,  before  all,  and 
commence  with  them.  No  doubt,  the  first  pages  of 
my  book  will  not  suffice  to  demonstrate  what  I  ad- 
vance here ;  it  is  the  entire  book  which  proves  the 
demonstration.  I  venture  to  say  there  is  not  a  page 
in  which  this  truth,  with  its  forcible  and  vivid  light, 
is  not  repeatedly  met.  I  do  not  doubt,  even,  that  the 
penetrating  glance  of  elevated  and  attentive  minds 
will,  from  the  first,  discover  why  the  two  holiest  and 
greatest  sentiments  which  can  exist  in  humanity  on 
earth,  to  wit,  authority  and  respect,  are  the  greatest 
essentials  in  education,  and  appear  as  the  founda- 
tion, and  even  the  chief  means  of  the  work  which  it 
aims  to  accomplish.  What  is  education  actually } 
what  is,  at  the  same  time,  the  highest,  the  most  pro- 
found, the  most  general,  the  most  simple  conception 
of  it }     It  is  this :  to  cultivate,  to  train,  to  develop, 

9 


lO  AUTHOR  S    PREFACE. 

to  Strengthen,  and  to  polish  all  the  physical,  intel- 
lectual, moral,  and  religious  faculties  which  consti- 
tute nature  and  human  dignity  in  the  child ;  to  give 
to  these  faculties  their  perfect  integrity ;  to  estab- 
lish them  in  the  plenitude  of  their  power  and  their 
action.  Hence,  to  form  man,  and  prepare  him  to 
serve  his  country  in  the  various  social  offices  he  may 
some  day,  during  his  life  on  earth,  be  called  on  to 
fill ;  and  thus,  in  a  higher  conception,  prepare  him 
for  eternal  life,  by  elevating  his  present  life.  Such 
is  the  work  —  such  is  the  end  of  education.  Such  is 
the  duty  of  parents,  when  God,  uniting  them  by  His 
supreme  providence,  gives  through  them  life  to  noble 
creatures,  and  charges  them  with  continuing  and 
completing  this  entirely  Divine  task,  of  conducting 
to  happiness,  by  truth  and  virtue,  these  children, 
whom  he  will,  one  day,  associate  with  Himself  in 
His  eternal  felicity  and  glory.  Such  is  the  duty  of 
men  who  unite  an  honorable  choice,  a  superior  voca- 
tion, a  generous  devotion,  to  authority  and  parental 
solicitude ;  such  is  the  holy  mission  of  teachers  of 
youth ;  and  that  always  and  everywhere,  among  the 
most  learned  and  civilized  nations,  as  well  as  the 
least  enlightened  and  least  polished  peoples.  Pri- 
vate education  and  public  education,  the  most  ordi- 
nary as  well  as  the  highest,  the  education  of  girls 
and  of  boys  —  in  a  word,  human  education  —  suc- 
ceeds only  on  these  conditions,  and  at  this  price. 
Otherwise  it  is  not  education.  Such  is  the  law  of 
nature,  and  the  order  imposed  by  Providence  itself. 
What  is  actually  in  question?  It  is  important  to 
understand  it  well  from  the  first.     Here  is  a  child : 


AUTHOR  S    PREFACE.  I  I 

it  is  necessary  to  bring  him  up ;  but  what  does  that 
mean,  and  what  is  this  child  ?  This  child  is  man- 
kind ;  he  is  entire  humanity ;  he  is  man :  nothing 
more,  nothing  less.  He  has  a  right  to  the  solicitude 
of  all  the  authorities,  to  the  action  and  benevolence 
of  all  the  powers  on  earth.  He  has  a  right  to  every 
respect,  and  he,  in  his  turn,  owes  it  to  them.  All 
the  authorities,  divine  and  human  —  the  Prince,  the 
Priest,  the  Teacher,  the  Magistrate,  the  Church, 
home  and  society,  have  been  instituted  for  him. 
Moral  discipline,  instruction,  literature,  science,  re- 
ligion, all  the  prizes  of  labor  and  virtue ;  in  fine, 
Providence  and  everything  on  earth  exists  for  him  ; 
because  he  himself  is  on  earth  from  God  and  for 
God  !  For  this  reason,  all  in  this  world  ought  to  labor 
for  his  education ;  all  ought  to  concur  in  bringing 
him  up ;  all  ought  to  perform  or  assist  in  this  great 
work.  With  regard  to  the  rest,  the  beautiful  classi- 
cal term,  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  language 
adopted  by  mankind  to  designate  education,  suffices 
to  point  out  that  this  is  not  a  high  and  fooUsh  theory, 
a  magnificent  speculation  without  possible  reality. 
Indeed,  the  simple  enunciation  of  these  terms  carries 
with  it  the  clearness  of  real  truth ;  and,  in  order  to 
obtain  the  highest  evidence  of  this,  it  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  determine  the  ordinary  and  incontestable 
meaning  of  each  expression ;  and  to  prove  the  noble- 
ness, the  elevation,  and  practical  force  of  the  general 
conceptions  revealed  by  human  language  with  re- 
spect to  education.     Let  us  now  enter  into  details. 

Take  the  word   ''education."     What  noble  ideas, 
what  powerful  action,  its  etymology  expresses  here ! 


12  AUTHORS    PREFACE. 

It  is  almost  to  draw  out  of  nothing,  almost  to  create ; 
it  is,  at  least,  to  draw  the  slumbering  faculties  out  of 
lethargy  and  torpor ;  it  is  to  give  life,  movement,  and 
power  to  the  still  imperfect  existence.  It  is  in  this 
sense  that  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  educa- 
tion is  the  highest  human  work  that  can  be  per- 
formed. It  is  the  continuation  of  the  Divine  work 
in  that  which  is  most  noble  and  elevated  —  the  crea- 
tion of  minds.  And,  for  this  reason,  it  is  also  the 
work  of  the  highest  authority. 

In  education,  God  is  the  source  and  ground  of 
authority  and  respect ;  of  the  essential  duties  and 
rights  of  all :  He  is  the  model  and  image  of  the 
work  which  is  to  be  performed ;  He  is  the  most  power- 
ful and  skilled  workman  in  it.  From  whatever  point 
of  view  I  place  myself  in  order  to  consider  the  work 
of  education,  it  appears  to  my  eyes  as  one  of  the 
most  admirable  reflections  of  the  Divine  power,  wis- 
dom, and  goodness. 

Education  receives  the  foundation,  the  matter, 
which  the  first  creation  confides  to  it ;  it  undertakes 
to  form  it ;  it  imprints  it  with  beauty,  elevation,  po- 
liteness, greatness ;  it  is  as  an  inspiration  of  life, 
power,  grace,  and  enlightenment.  When  the  im- 
mortal Archbishop  of  Cambrai  undertook  the  educa- 
tion of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  he  applied  himself, 
says  the  historian,  and  succeeded,  in  as  much  as  was 
in  his  power,  in  forming  and  realizing  in  his  royal 
pupil  the  perfection  of  virtue  —  as  the  artists  of 
antiquity  sought  to  impress  on  their  works  that 
supreme  beauty  which  gives  to  human  forms  a  super- 
natural and  heavenly  expression.     It  has  been  also 


AUTHORS    PREFACE.  1 3 

said  that  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  was  one  of  the 
noblest  creations  of  wisdom  and  genius. 

It  is  to  the  Romans  —  it  is  to  their  tongue,  so  sub- 
lime and  so  forcible,  that  we  owe  this  word,  so  grave 
in  meaning,  so  energetic  in  expression.  The  French 
have  enriched  the  language,  and  even  expressed  the 
action  of  education,  by  a  word,  the  nobleness  and 
brilliancy  of  which  contests  with  the  sublimity  and 
energy  of  the  Latin  word.  Their  expression  is 
'' el  ever'' — to  raise  up,  to  elevate.  Beautiful  word! 
and,  if  the  meaning  proper  to  it  seems  less  profound, 
and  expresses  less  forcibly  the  action  —  the  creative 
power  of  education,  it  adds  to  this  fundamental  con- 
ception, beauty,  ornament,  and  greatness.  And  is 
the  creative  action  of  education  really  anything  else  .-* 
Yes;  '' elever''  is  a  beautiful  word,  thoroughly 
French  :  it  has  dignity  and  greatness.  It  surrounds 
education  with  a  natural  cortege  of  the  beautiful 
ideas  which  are  attached  to  it.  To  elevate  the  soul ; 
to  elevate  the  mind ;  to  elevate  the  sentiments  and 
the  thoughts;  to  elevate  the  character — ^^are  the 
natural  conceptions  of  a  nation,  the  duties  and  the 
end  of  education. 

The  merit  due  to  France  is  that  of  having  promptly 
understood  all  this,  and  worthily  lent  herself  to  it ; 
the  glory  of  French  genius  is  that  of  having,  on 
finding  this  language  suited  to  it,  instinctively 
adopted  it ;  and  then  an  education  expressed  and 
carried  on  so  ought  to  be  of  the  highest.  Germany 
and  England  have  not  had  the  same  inspiration,  and 
they  envy  us ;  for  it  is  one  of  these  expressions 
which  do  honor  to  a  nation ;  and,  applied  to  educa- 


14  AUTHOR  S    PREFACE. 

tion,  it  points  out  all  the  fecundity  and  power  that 
exist  in  a  word ;  and  how  it  can  pick  up,  in  passing, 
noble  and  useful  meanings,  which,  without  it,  would 
have  remained  unperceived  and  in  obscurity.  It  is 
one  of  those  words  which  not  only  enrich  the  lan- 
guage of  a  people,  but  enrich  and  strengthen  their 
morals,  and  elevate  a  conception  to  its  highest  power. 
And  when  this  conception  is  that  of  the  education 
even  of  youth ;  besides,  when  this  language  has 
given  to  the  world  the  expressions  genms  and  charac- 
ter, two  words  still  so  French,  and  which  are  found, 
for  the  first  time,  with  the  elegance  of  their  absolute 
meaning,  in  our  national  dictionary,  is  it  not  suffi- 
cient to  justify  me,  if  I  permit  myself  to  say  that 
our  tongue  possesses,  in  its  generous  energy,  some  of 
those  happy  words,  inspired  from  on  high,  which  will 
ever  be  the  property  of  France } 

Education,  then,  forms,  elevates,  in  some  manner 
creates.  It  is  in  order  to  succeed  in  this,  that  it 
cultivates,  it  trains,  it  acts,  and  causes  to  act.  For 
this  reason,  it  is  a  work  of  high  authority,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  claims  from  those  whom  it  brings  up  a 
respectful  docility.  It  cultivates  by  physical  cares, 
by  intellectual  instruction,  by  moral  discipline,  by 
religious  lessons.  Like  an  intelligent  gardener,  it 
places  the  plant  w^hich  is  confided  to  it  in  good  earth  ; 
it  waters  it  from  a  pure  stream,  surrounds  it  with 
generous  food,  and  thus  nourishes  juices,  which,  in 
seconding  the  interior  labor,  assist  active  vegetation, 
and  cause  growth,  in  order  to  give  flowers  and  fruit 
in  the  proper  time.  Education,  then,  cultivates,  and 
this  is  especially  the  duty  of  the  teacher.     But  that 


AUTHORS    PREFACE.  1 5 

is  not  all.  Education  trains,  and  causes  to  act ;  it 
requires  the  active  concurrence,  the  docile  concur- 
rence, the  free,  spontaneous,  personal  exercise,  of  the 
pupil.  As  the  master  of  a  young  and  noble  courser 
makes  him  fly  through  space,  ascend  hills,  draw  bur- 
dens, struggle  against  fatigue,  and  thus  gives  to  him 
all  the  suppleness,  all  the  vigor,  which  he  is  capable 
of ;  in  like  manner,  the  teacher,  in  proposing  certain 
studies,  certain  efforts,  certain  exercises  to  his  pupil, 
in  energetically  inciting  him,  wisely  directing  him  to 
them,  causes  him,  as  is  suitable,  to  labor  and  effica- 
ciously contribute,  himself,  to  his  own  education.  I 
have  said,  as  is  suitable ;  I  should  have  said,  as  is 
necessary ;  for  such  is  the  design  of  God,  and  even 
of  His  providence.  The  child  is  a  moral  being,  en- 
dowed with  liberty,  and  capable  of  action ;  it  is 
necessary  that  he  should  labor  to  develop,  to  ennoble, 
to  elevate  himself  of  himself;  otherwise  his  educa- 
tion is  not  accomplished.  The  law  of  labor  is  the 
great  law  of  human  education.  No  one  on  earth  is 
created  in  order  to  do  nothing.  Every  intelligent 
and  free  creature  is  essentially  destined  to  action. 
Activity  nourishes,  trains,  gives  strength  and  life. 
Idleness,  or  doing  nothing,  is  annihilation  —  is  death. 
I  do  not  fear  to  declare,  also,  that  the  principal  talent 
of  the  teacher  consists  in  making  his  pupil  enter 
courageously  into  the  path  of  labor  and  personal 
application.  Labor,  or  the  exercise  of  the  body, 
which  gives  vigor  to  its  members  ;  labor  of  the  mind, 
which  forms  in  it  judgment,  taste,  reasoning,' mem- 
ory, imagination  ;  labor  of  the  heart,  of  the  will,  of 
the   conscience,    which   forms   the   character,    gives 


1 6  author's  preface. 

birth  to  modest  tendencies  and  virtuous  habits. 
Work  of  the  master,  and  labor  of  the  pupil. 

Education  is,  then,  at  the  same  time,  culture  and 
exercise,  instruction  and  study ;  the  master  culti- 
vates, instructs,  labors  outwardly ;  but  it  is  essen- 
tially necessary  that  there  should  be  exercise,  appli- 
cation, labor,  within.  It  is  indispensable  to  under- 
stand this  well.  In  education,  what  the  teacher  does 
himself  is  a  trifling  matter;  what  he  causes  to  be 
done  is  everything.  Whosoever  does  not  understand 
that,  understands  nothing  of  the  work  of  human 
education.  Education,  from  whatsoever  side  we  con- 
sider it,  is,  then,  essentially  an  action,  and  a  creative 
action ;  the  teacher  and  the  pupil  both  essentially 
take  part  in  it :  the  teacher,  with  authority  and  devo- 
tion ;  the  pupil,  with  docility  and  respect.  To  the 
first  belongs  this  powerful  and  fertile  action  respect- 
ing the  child,  this  real  authority,  which  gives  him 
the  right  and  imposes  on  him  the  duty  of  acting  as 
master.  In  education,  as  elsewhere,  without  real 
authority  there  can  be  no  legitimate  action.  But  this 
action  is  an  action  entirely  beneficent ;  for  education 
is  essentially  a  paternal  service ;  the  master  replaces 
and  represents  a  father. 

In  the  teacher,  devotion  should  inspire  and^  en- 
courage his  action ;  kindness,  affection,  tenderness, 
should  be  the  foundation  and  the  soul  of  his  devo- 
tion. In  the  pupil  there  should  be  profound  docility, 
courageous  efforts,  grateful  and  inviolable  respect 
towards  an  action  which  is  a  benefit ;  for  an  author- 
ity inspired  by  affection  and  devotion. 

I  have  spoken  of  God,  the  parents,  the  teacher,  the 


AUTHOR  S    PREFACE.  \J 

child ;  I  ought  to  speak  of  school-fellows.  School- 
fellow ;  that  is  to  say,  the  begining  of  society ; 
social  life,  its  duties  and  its  rights ;  the  noble  emula- 
tion ;  the  force  of  example;  the  sharing  of  joys  and 
sorrows,  labors  and  success ;  the  artless  friendships, 
the  support,  the  mutual  assistance,  the  fraternity 
even ;  for  the  school-fellow  is  the  brother,  the  family, 
when  education  is  what  it  ought  to  be.  With  school- 
fellows there  will  be  reciprocal  clashing,  and,  conse- 
quently, the  beneficial  teaching  of  mutual  endurance 
and  patience,  true  and  wise  equality,  respect  for 
others  —  all  such  precious  sentiments.  There  are 
no,  or  very  few,  good  educations  without  school-fel- 
lows. 

Such  are  the  chief  conceptions;  such  are  the 
rights  and  higher  order  of  duties  revealed  by  these 
first  words:  —  To  Cultivate,  to  Train. 

We  shall  now  ascertain  why  we  have  said  that 
education  is,  above  all,  a  work  of  authority  and 
respect. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

CHAPTER   I. 
The  Child  ;  his  dispositions  ;  his  faults 23 

CHAPTER  H. 
The  child  ;  my  experiences     34 

CHAPTER   HI. 
The  spoiled  child 45 

CHAPTER   IV. 

The  child  ;  some  advice  on  his  early  education 67 

CHAPTER   V. 

The  respect  due  to  the  dignity  of  childhood  is  a  religious  respect  .    82 

CHAPTER  VL 

On   human  nature   in  the   child ;    on   his   defects ;   necessity  of 
knowing  them  well,  and  correcting  them  in  him 92 

CHAPTER   VH. 
Two  important  observations  on  the  same  subject 98 

CHAPTER   Vni. 

Of  the  different  species  of  defects 107 

19 


20  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER   IX. 
Classification  of  defects nj 

CHAPTER  X. 

Profound  origin  of  our  defects  ;  original  sin ;    the  triple  concu- 
piscence    126 

CHAPTER   XI. 

Pride,  superbia  vita,  the  chief  source  of  our  defects 1 30 

CHAPTER   XII. 
On  the  four  kinds  of  evil  spirits  which  pride  is  father  to 147 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
A  last  word  on  the  manner  of  treating  the  proud 1 53 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
Second  source  of  defects  in  man  and  in  the  child  ;  sensuality    .    .160 

CHAPTER   XV. 
"What  is  to  be  done  in  order  to  save  children  from  the  dangers  of 
sensuality 177 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

Curiosity ;  levity  ;  third  source  of  defects  in  man  and  in  the  child    187 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

Of  the  child,  and  of  the  respect  due  to  the  liberty  of  his  nature  .    .  205 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
The  child;  the  respect  due  to  the  liberty  of  his  intellect 216 


CONTENTS.  21 

PAGB 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

Of  the  child,  and  the  respect  due  to  the  liberty  of  his  will    ....  236 

CHAPTER   XX. 
Of  the  child,  and  the  respect  due  to  the  liberty  of  his  vocation  .    .253 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

Nothing  on  earth  happens  by  accident :  there  is,  then,  for  every 
one,  and  for  each  state,  a  vocation  from  God 279 

Conclusion 2S9 


^TISIVEESITTj 

THE  CHILD. 


CHAPTER   I. 


THE  child;   his  dispositions,  his  faults,  his 

RESOURCES. 

To  cultivate,  to  train,  to  develop,  to  strengthen, 
and  to  polish  all  the  faculties  —  physical,  intellectual, 
moral,  and  religious  —  which  constitute  in  the  child 
nature  and  human  dignity :  such  is  the  work  of  edu- 
cation. 

The  child  is,  then,  the  personal  subject  of  educa- 
tion. It  is  important  to  study  him  to  the  heart,  and 
to  see  closely  what  greatness  he  has  in  him,  what 
resources  he  offers,  and  in  the  name  of  what  noble 
qualities,  in  the  name  of  what  superior  faculties,  he 
claims  the  highest,  the  most  tender  solicitude,  and 
all  the  cares  of  a  religious  respect.  Should  this  book 
fall  into  the  hands  of  those  whom  I  have  had  the 
happiness  to  bring  up,  they  will  not  be  surprised  at 
my  language.  Doubtless,  in  the  days  of  their  educa- 
tion, I  spoke  more  frequently  to  them  of  my  tender- 
ness than  of  my  respect.  Nevertheless,  I  did  not 
fear  to  disclose  to  themselves  the  secret  of  most  deli- 
cate duties  towards  their  soul ;  I  loved  to  explain  to 

23 


24  THE    CHILD. 

them  the  devotion  and  respect  with  which  the  pious 
teachers  of  their  youth  believed  they  were  bound  to 
rear  them.  These  dear  children  understood  those 
lessons ;  and  it  is  a  homage  which  is  to  me  as  sweet 
to  render  as  it  can  be  glorious  to  them  to  receive ; 
they  have  always  shown  themselves  worthy  of  being 
pupils  in  the  school  of  respect.  But  what,  then,  is 
the  child  that  he  should  be  deserving  of  a  religious 
respect  ?  The  child  :  he  is  man  himself,  with  all  his 
future  contained  in  his  early  years.  The  child  :  he  is 
the  hope  of  the  family  and  of  society;  he  is  the 
human  race  springing  up  again ;  the  country  which 
perpetuates  itself,  and  is  as  the  renewing  of  human- 
ity in  its  bloom.  The  child  is  an  amiable  creature, 
whose  candor,  artless  simplicity,  confiding  docility, 
win  affection  and  give  birth  to  the  most  pleasing 
anticipations;  he  is  the  blessing  of  God  a;nd  the 
depositary  of  heaven  —  an  innocent  soul,  the  peace- 
ful sleep  of  whose  passions  has  not  yet  been  dis- 
turbed, whose  uprightness  has  not  yet  been  impaired 
by  the  fascinations  of  lying  and  the  deceits  of  the 
world.  The  child  is  a  simple  and  pure  heart,  to 
which  Religion  may  present  herself  with  confidence, 
which,  as  yet,  has  no  private  interests  to  prefer  to 
her,  and  which  willingly  permits  itself  to  be  softened 
by  her  maternal  voice.  He  is  this  first  age  of  life,  so 
sweet  to  see ;  so  amiable  to  cultivate ;  most  fre- 
quently so  suitable  to  train ;  so  easy  to  mould  to  the 
holiest  duties ;  and  always  so  interesting  to  study 
closely.  Ah  !  I  understand  how  childhood  can  have 
been  so  dear  to  the  God  of  the  Gospel.  All  in  it 
breathes  of  innocence  and  grace.     There  is  in  this 


THE    CHILD  ;     HIS    DISPOSITIONS,    ETC.  2$ 

first  age  something  which  comes  more  recently  from 
heaven,  which  calls  forth  all  the  blessings  of  the 
Divine  Hand,  and  depicts  to  us  on  earth  the  sweetest 
charms  of  candor  and  virtue.  You  will  say  to  me, 
perhaps,  it  is  evident  you  take  pleasure  in  speaking 
here  of  those  children  of  benediction,  who  are  inno- 
cence, docility,  and  wisdom  itself ;  whom  nature  and 
grace  seem  to  have  vied  in  forming,  and  who  appear  to 
be  born  for  the  love  of  heaven  and  the  delight  of  earth. 
No ;  I  speak  here  of  all  children,  whatever  they  may 
be.  I  take  this  age  in  its  widest  meaning ;  and  I  say 
that  there  is  in  it  a  grace,  a  dignity,  a  nobleness,  which 
belongs  to  it;  there  is  3omething  of  blessedness 
which  breathes  forth  its  celestial  origin,  and  which 
is  not  in  the  generality  of  men.  Nothing  has  yet 
been  blighted  or  debased  in  this  child,  such  as  I 
represent  him  to  myself.  He  has  never  committed 
an  unworthy  act  with  reflection ;  he  has  not  yet  lied 
with  cleverness  ;  he  has  not  knowingly  despised  or 
hated  virtue  —  justice,  natural  equity,  and  plain-deal- 
ing are  quick  in  him.  No  doubt  he  bears  in  him, 
caused  by  the  original  stain,  that  inclination  to  evil 
which  is  now  the  sad  inheritance  of  our  nature ;  but 
it  is  a  germ  hidden  in  the  depths  of  his  soul,  which 
has  not  yet  received  any  development.  No  one  is 
better  acquainted  with  the  faults  of  the  first  age  than 
I,  and  I  will  presently  show  that  I  have  neither  any 
wish  nor  any  need  to  ignore  them.  The  long  years 
which  I  have  devoted  to  the  care  of  children  have 
been  the  sweetest,  but  also  the  most  laborious,  of  my 
life ;  and  if  my  hair  has  blanched  before  its  time, 
it  is  in  the  service  of  childhood.  Who  elsewhere 
3 


26  THE   CHILD. 

occupied  with  children  has  not  met,  does  not  know 
all  there  is  in  them  to  reform  and  correct  by  educa- 
tion. It  is  also,  I  say  it  without  trouble,  it  is  also  in 
this  age  one  meets  side  by  side  with  the  happiest  dis- 
positions, the  most  depraved  instincts  —  stubborn- 
ness, passion,  jealousy,  lying — I  will  say  even 
ingratitude.  It  is  especially  at  this  age  egotism, 
thoughtless  as  it  is,  shows  itself,  prejudiced,  capri- 
cious, and  eager.  I  have  never  met  with  more  pro- 
found selfishness  than  among  children.  When  their 
early  years  have  been  cherished  in  effeminacy,  with 
what  secret  repugnance  they  repulse  all  truth  which 
wounds  them!  —  with  what  deplorable  instinct  they 
seize  all  that  is  false  or  evil,  and  which  flatters  them ! 
It  is,  above  all,  an  inquisitive,  unsteady,  restless  age 

—  greedy  of  possession,  enemy  of  constraint.  It  is 
this  age  which  opens  the  eyes,  with  such  dangerous 
eagerness,  on  life,  to  discover  in  it  every  charm ;  this 
age  whose  glances  wander  with  anxiety  on  the  smil- 
ing scene  of  the  world,  to  see  in  it  deceitful  beauties 

—  in  fine,  the  age  in  which  the  heart,  though  still  so 
young,  awakens  and  glows  for  the  first  time  at  all 
which  surrounds  it,  soliciting  with  ardor  the  food 
which  is  necessary  for  its  desires,  and  hastening  to 
taste  the  vain  pleasures  which  perhaps  will  soon  tar- 
nish its  innocence.  I  admit  all  that  — why  should  I 
feign  not  to  know  it  t  It  is  precisely  the  inexperi- 
ence, the  weakness,  the  innumerable  perils,  and, 
above  all,  the  faults,  of  this  first  age,  which  interest 
my  heart,  alarm  my  tenderness,  and  which  claim 
from  indifference  itself  solicitude  and  paternal  cares. 
I  repeat,  then,  childhood  is  giddy,  inattentive,   pre- 


THE  child;   his  dispositions,  etc.  27 

sumptuous,  violent,  stubborn ;  it  is  the  age  of  heed- 
lessness, waywardness,  and  pleasure;  the  age  of  all 
the  illusions,  and  hence  almost  all  the  errors,  of  this 
age,  and  also  all  the  laborious  cares  of  education. 
"  But,"  added  Fenelon,  "  it  is  the  only  age  in  which 
man  can  count  on  himself  to  correct  his  faults ; " 
and,  I  ask,  what  is  more  winning,  and,  I  will  add, 
more  worthy  of  respect,  than  a  being  so  young 
making  efforts  to  become  better  ?  Is  it  not  one  of 
the  most  glorious  and  most  moving  privileges  of 
childhood }  Mature  age,  and  especially  old  age,  are 
almost  without  resources  against  their  faults ;  they 
can  only  with  great  difficulty  reclaim  themselves 
from  the  unfortunate  bent  they  have  taken,  and  ex- 
tirpate the  evil  which  has  grown  old  with  them. 
There  usually  remains  to  them  but  a  constitution 
weakened  and  spoiled  by  custom.  As  to  children,  if 
they,  like  men,  have  faults  of  dispositiojt,  they  have 
not,  at  least  yet,  those  acquired  faults  which  the  prog- 
ress of  time,  the  influence  of  habit,  and  the  fatal 
strength  of  nature,  fully  developed  for  evil,  caused  to 
be  justly  designated  vices.  All  is  still  pliant  in 
them,  and  all  is  new ;  it  is  easy  to  set  straight  again 
these  tender  plants  and  raise  them  towards  heaven. 
Nothing  is  worn  out,  nothing  is  deeply  rooted,  in 
these  young  and  capricious  creatures. 

There  is  nothing  more  lovely  to  see,  even  in  the 
midst  of  these  faults,  than  the  dawning  reason  and 
virtue  of  a  child  — "  lilium  inter  spinas,"  say  the 
Scriptures ;  nothing  more  touching  to  observe  than 
the  first  efforts  he  makes  against  himself,  to  correct 
himself.     How  necessary  to  exhort  and  sustain  him 


28  THE  CHILD. 

then ;  with  what  affection  he  must  be  made  to  com- 
prehend that  one  blesses  God  for  his  courage ;  he 
must  be  made  to  feel  that  one  is  happy  by  it.     It  is 
very  necessary  to  convince  him  of  it,  and  one  can 
never  give  too  much  tender  encouragement  to  a  child 
who  labors  to  conquer  his  temper  and  control  him- 
self, who  is  sensible  of  his  faults,  reproaches  himself 
with  them,  acknowledges  them  candidly,  loves  those 
who  reprehend  him,  and,  in  good  time,  puts  his  hand 
to  the  great  work  of  his  own  improvement.    We  can- 
not, then,  be  too  careful ;  for  we  often  deceive  our- 
selves.     Yes ;    too   frequently  we   become   terrified 
without  reason  at  the  faults  of  early  youth.     Under 
the  most  rugged  bark  there  is  sometimes  a  stock 
living   and   full   of    sap,    which   will   give   excellent 
fruits  :    so  also  a  mild  and  polished  exterior  some- 
times conceals  a  deceitful   heart  and  the  wretched 
principles  of  corruption.     It  is  especially  necessary 
to  distrust  those  who  are  spoken  of  as  fine  children. 
I  do  not  say  we  should  be  prejudiced  against  them ; 
but   it   is   necessary   to    look   well    to   them ;    they 
rarely  become   that   which    they   promise.     On  the 
contrary,   notwithstanding   the   appearances   of   gid- 
diness and  too  lively  an  inclination  for  pleasure,  a 
child  may  be  wise,  reasonable,  and  sensible  to  virtue. 
I  have   many  times   met  with  these  young   beings, 
who,  under  the  turbulent  exterior  of  their  age,  con- 
cealed a  reason  already  much  matured,  a  clear  mind, 
a  firm,  decided  character,  even  in   the   midst  of  the 
mobility  of  their  impressions,  and  I  avow  these  were 
the  children  who  interested  me  most;   that  it  was 
with  them  I  had  need  to  guard  against  the  prefer- 


THE    CHILD  ;     HIS    DISPOSITIONS,    ETC.  29 

ences  of  my  heart.  I  do  not,  then,  make  any  diffi- 
culty in  acknowledging  it.  The  child,  even  he  who 
at  his  birth  has  received  from  heaven  the  happiest 
disposition,  is  a  weak,  fickle  being,  who  wanders 
from  desire  to  desire,  at  the  mercy  of  his  own  incon- 
stancy. It  seems  as  if  nothing  can  fix  him ;  that  he 
is  incapable  of  applying  his  mind  to  anything  —  of 
forming  a  resolution,  of  taking  a  serious  part;  in 
everything  he  appears  to  follow  fancy,  the  most  frivo- 
lous whims,  and  to  have  nothing  steady ;  all  in  eter- 
nal agitation.  But  religious  instructors  may  permit 
me  to  say  in  their  name,  it  is  the  work  and  even  the 
glory  of  education  to  conquer  this  fickleness  and  set- 
tle this  unsteadiness ;  it  is  also  the  work  and  the 
glory  of  youth. 

I  have  helped  to  this  triumph,  and  I  have  enjoyed 
it.  I  have  seen  children,  before  their  twelfth  year, 
faithful  at  the  hours  of  silence,  attentive  to  the  les- 
sons of  knowledge  and  virtue,  eager  to  labor,  ardent 
in  the  struggles  of  emulation,  re-collected  at  prayer, 
and  I  have  said  to  myself:  what  pure  joy!  what 
honor  for  those  who  brought  up  those  children,  and 
who  have  contrived  to  form  minds  so  mature,  hearts 
so  firm,  souls  so  thoughtful,  in  so  early  an  age  !  How 
impossible  not  to  love  children  —  so  courageous  and 
so  amiable!  What  happiness  to  expend  one's  love 
and  cares  in  forming  them  !  How  impossible  not  to 
admire  a  childhood  so  noble  and  so  pure  —  so  gener- 
ous and  so  docile !  Pardon  me  my  prepossessions 
for  this  age ;  but  I  should  admit  I  attach  great  im- 
portance to  convincing  the  teachers  of  youth  that 
the   natural   faults,   even  the  faults   which   frighten 


30  THE    CHILD. 

them  most,  ought  to  inspire  their  zeal,  their  affection, 
I  will  almost  say  their  respect,  for  childhood.  Let 
them  regard  it  closely,  and  they  will  see  that  the 
most  turbulent,  the  most  restless  child,  has,  in  the 
midst  of  all  his  faults,  something  true,  ingenuous, 
and  natural,  which  is  of  infinite  value,  and  merits 
every  respect.  In  more  advanced  age,  alas !  our 
good  qualities  have  refinements  which  alter  them : 
he,  the  child,  is  naturally  upright  and  sincere;  as 
yet  he  has  nothing  put  on  —  nothing  factitious  ;  it  is 
true  he  sometimes  appears  too  much  without  re- 
straint, and  this  is  complained  of.  As  for  me,  I 
hardly  complained  of  it ;  because  I  found  him 
almost  always  without  affected  reserve,  without 
envy,  and,  notwithstanding  his  natural  egotism,  with- 
out anxious  or  skilful  reverting  to  himself  —  without 
interested  pre-occupation.  Simple  and  easy,  free  in 
his  career,  the  child  pauses  not  to  compose  himself 
with  art;  and  in  these  precious  moments,  when  he 
likes  to  settle  himself  near  you,  to  listen  to  you  with 
attention,  you  would  be  surprised  to  see  that  which  I 
have  seen  a  thousand  times  —  how  worthy  he  i$  of 
the  sweetest,  the  most  intimate  famiharity;  how 
deeply  your  culture  has  penetrated  into  that  young 
soil ;  with  what  facility  the  way  is  found  to  his  heart, 
to  engrave  there  rapidly  the  most  profound  impres- 
sions. 

Yes ;  the  giddiest  child,  I  would  almost  say  the 
most  violent,  is  that  same  who  suddenly  shows,  to 
those  who  know  how  to  make  him  love  them,  a  taste 
for  candor  and  truth  which  enraptures ;  it  is  he  who 
suddenly  causes  to  be  perceived  in  his  heart,  when 


THE  child;   his  dispositions,  etc.  31 

we  have  discovered  how  to  soften  it,  I  cannot  tell 
how  much  of  sweet,  innocent,  gentle  merriment, 
which  moves  us  profoundly.  I  persist  in  maintain- 
ing this  opinion  :  whatever  may  be  the  harshness  of 
his  character  and  the  violence  of  his  temper,  when  a 
child  is  without  meanness,  when  he  has  uprightness, 
courage,  a  heart  truly  sensitive,  and  a  feeling  of  reli- 
gion, it  is  not  necessary  to  be  anxious  about  him. 
Fenelon  speaks  somewhere  of  a  child  who  was  con- 
fided to  him  for  some  time,  and  who,  though  still 
very  young,  had  wit,  boldness,  and  facility  for  speak- 
ing ;  but  a  character  strong  even  to  hardness,  very 
quick  passions,  violent  whims,  an  impetuous  temper, 
and  his  reason  not  yet  sufficiently  strong  to  restrain 
him.  Once  carried  away  he  never  recollected  him- 
self ;  one  could  not  contrive  even  to  make  him  per- 
ceive the  wrong.  He  hardened  himself  coolly,  and 
despised  correction.  But  it  was  all  these  faults 
which  gave  Fenelon  great  hopes  for  the  future  of 
this  child:  "His  faults,"  said  he,  "come  from  his 
temperament  and  his  age.  There  is  every  ground 
for  believing  that  good  education  and  more  matured 
reason  will  convert  them  into  true  talents.  He  is 
a  wine  whose  sharpness  changes,  mellows  with  age. 
He  has  a  very  strong  character;  it  is  but  a  question 
of  softening  it.  Age,  which  matures  reason,  exam- 
ple, instruction,  authority,  will  temper  this  childish 
impetuosity.  Much  mildness,  patience,  and  firmness 
is  necessary.  He  must  be  led  with  a  mild,  patient, 
and  uniform  firmness.  There  is  a  depth  of  sense 
and  strength  in  him  from  which  much  may  be  ex- 
pected, provided  he  be  accustomed  gradually  to  re- 


32  THE    CHILD. 

Strain  himself ;  this  child  will  then  have  many  profit- 
able qualities."  ^  Beyond  dispute,  Fenelon  reveals 
here  one  of  the  most  profound  secrets  of  human 
nature  and  Christian  ethics,  also  the  most  important 
to  be  well  understood  by  those  devoted  to  the  educa- 
tion of  youth.  The  liveliest,  the  strongest,  and  the 
happiest  characters  are  not,  indeed,  those  without 
faults,  without  passions,  and  without  struggles. 
Who  has  not  heard  of  the  struggles  and  victories  of 
St.  Paul,  St.  Augustine,  St.  Teresa,  St.  Jerome,  St. 
Francis  Xavier,  and  so  many  others  ?  There  has 
never  been  question  of  bringing  up  children  without 
passions  and  faults :  I  would  almost  venture  to  say, 
nothing  could  be  worse  than  such  children  —  noth- 
ing more  problematical  than  the  success  of  their 
education.  As  to  me,  I  foresaw  it  always,  and  was 
accustomed  to  say  of  them  —  "  These  are  sleeping 
and  deceitful  waters :  there  will  come  to  us  from 
them  more  of  evil  than  good  !  " 

A  thousand  times  better  those  lively,  impetuous, 
passionate  natures.  No  doubt  they  require  to  be 
strongly  governed ;  but  they  likewise  offer  great  re- 

1  Fenelon  loved  children.  At  sixty-four  years  of  age  he  charged 
himself  with  superintending,  in  his  palace  at  Cambrai,  during  an 
autumn,  the  education  of  the  young  sons  of  the  Duke  de  Choulncs ; 
he  spoke  of  them  with  tenderness.  "  Forget  not,"  he  wrote  to  their 
father,  "that  you  have  promised  me  the  dear  young  folk  for  the  fine 
season.  I  will  be  charmed  with  them."  Another  time  :  "  I  ask  of 
you  your  dear  children,  who  are  mine."  They  will  not  embarrass  me 
in  any  way ;  I  will  be  charmed  with  them,  and  will  be  their  first  tutor 
under  M.  Gallet.  Leave  me  the  little  folk ;  they  will  give  me  pleas- 
ure ;  I  will  try  not  to  be  useless  to  them."  Another  time  he  wrote  to 
their  mother :  —  "As  to  the  little  flock,  I  am  charmed  to  have  them 
here ;  I  love  them  tenderly.     They  will  not  encumber  me  in  any  way." 


THE    CHILD  ;     HIS    DISPOSITIONS,    ETC.  33 

sources  for  great  things.  What  do  the  masters  of 
ethics  understand  by  the  passions.^  They  under- 
stand those  powerful  impulses,  those  impetuous 
movements  of  the  soul,  which  drive  it  to  love  and  to 
hate.  To  what  have  they  compared  them }  To 
generous  coursers,  which  transport  and  precipitate 
the  soul  into  the  extremes  of  good  or  evil,  according 
as  a  firm  or  a  lax  hand  takes  possession  of  the  reins. 
Thus,  though  children  be  ardent,  headstrong,  and 
fiery ;  though  they  may  have  a  lively  imagination,  a 
mind  haughty  at  times,  an  irritable  temper,  an  exces- 
sive sensibility,  I  do  not  feel  alarmed  for  their  educa- 
tion ;  these,  at  least,  will  not  languish  in  mediocrity, 
without  faults,  without  reproaches,  but  also  without 
virtue.  I  ask  for  them  but  a  hand  capable  of  seizing 
the  reins,  and  cleverly  directing  their  strong  and 
generous  natures.  The  children  who  gave  me  most 
trouble  had  at  bottom  an  excellent  heart,  an  elevated 
mind,  a  noble  soul.  I  found  them  always  true,  sen- 
sible, sincere ;  there  were  usually  the  most  grateful 
of  all,  and  at  heart  the  most  docile  ;  they  accustomed 
themselves  most  courageously  to  obedience,  to  labor, 
to  the  love  of  letters,  and  respect  for  their  masters ; 
always  more  prompt  to  enthusiasm  for  good  than  to 
resentment  for  evil ;  and  when,  at  length,  the  happy 
disposition  which  was  in  them  triumphing,  by  the 
grace  of  God  and  their  education,  over  the  faults 
and  weaknesses  of  their  age,  strengthened  itself  in 
wisdom  and  virtue,  they  became,  in  reality,  those 
youths  who  promise  at  twenty  to  be  the  most  amia- 
ble and  generous  of  men.^ 

1  Rousseau. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  child;  my  experiences. 

In  order  to  improve  children,  not  to  be  disheart- 
ened by  their  faults,  and  to  discover  all  their  quali- 
ties, it  is  necessary  to  love  them,  and  to  feel  the  hap- 
piness of  being  loved  by  them  ;  to  be  interested  in 
them ;  to  show  joy  at  seeing  them  near  us  ;  to  study 
them  with  intelligence  and  love ;  and  to  take  pleasure 
in  chatting  familiarly  with  them.  In  such  conversa- 
tions their  tempers  become  softened  and  restrained. 
All  haughtiness,  all  harshness,  disappears ;  they  are 
not  only  polite,  sociable,  complaisant,  sincere,  play- 
ful, grateful,  and  tender,  but  their  minds  become 
elevated,  their  hearts  open,  and  we  discover  in  them 
the  most  touching  traits.  Their  souls  entirely  ex- 
pand, and  we  sometimes  suddenly  perceive  behind 
this  sweet,  smiling  little  face,  and  in  the  heart  of 
this  restless  creature,  a  something  great  and  divine, 
which  at  first  surprises,  but  which  we  soon  venerate 
with  tenderness.  Fenelon,  when  speaking  of  this 
wonderful  grace  called  simplicity,  adds  that  it  is  the 
evangelical  pearl,  worthy  of  being  sought  in  the  most 
distant  lands.  It  is  a  diamond  of  so  pure  a  water 
that  it  reflects  the  most  brilliant  lights !  The  shores 
of  the  Ganges,  which  send  to  us  the  pearls  of  the 
East,  have  not  sent  us  simplicity ;  yet  I  have  found 
34 


THE    CHILD  ;     MY    EXPERIENCES.  35 

it  in  the  heart  of  a  child.  No  doubt  the  candor  of 
their  mien,  the  vivacity  of  their  looks ;  this  color  so 
pure,  this  smile  so  gracious ;  these  words  so  artless 
and  so  amiable ;  all  the  innocent  beauties  and  exte- 
rior charms  of  this  age  possess  a  great  power ;  but 
the  charms  of  the  heart  are  still  more  powerful.  See 
how  this  simplicity  unknowingly  inspires  the  child 
with  the  highest  virtues.  We  can  say  of  him  what 
the  apostle  says  of  charity :  he  believes  all ;  he 
hopes  in  all ;  he  seeks  all  that  is  amiable  and  good ; 
he  admires  all  that  is  noble  and  great ;  he  suspects 
no  evil ;  he  grieves  not  for  wealth  ;  he  enjoys  himself 
with  all  that  is  innocently  pleasant.  You  love  him, 
he  loves  you ;  you  appear  virtuous,  he  venerates  you. 
His  actions  are  not  dictated  by  ambition,  malignity, 
bitterness,  nor  ill-will.  At  the  recital  of  a  generous 
action  his  heart  beats,  his  eyes  kindle.  At  the  sight 
of  misfortune  his  tears  flow;  he  understands  and 
divines  the  wants  of  misery ;  he  waits  not  till  they 
are  exposed  to  him  by  some  kind  and  eloquent 
tongue.  His  eye  is  the  quickest  to  discover  the 
poor  man  who  tremblingly  follows  his  steps ;  his 
hand  is  always  the  first  to  open  for  his  relief.  No ; 
I  am  not  surprised  that  Jesus  Christ,  when  his  dis- 
ciples once  disputed  among  themselves  as  to  who 
should  be  the  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
called  unto  Him  a  young  child,  and,  having  embraced 
him,  placing  him  in  the  midst  of  the  attentive  crowd, 
said  to  them :  "Verily  I  say  unto  you.  If  you  become 
not  like  unto  this  little  child,  you  shall  not  enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  ^ 

1  St.  Matthew,  chap,  xviii. 


^6  THE   CHILD. 

It  can  be  seen  that  I  do  not  recount  here  the 
dreams  of  my  friendship  for  childhood  and  youth. 
For,  since  the  days  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  has  desired 
to  be  the  instructor  and  friend  of  this  early  age, 
what  teacher,  worthy  of  his  divine  mission,  has  not 
experienced  that  of  which  I  am  going  to  speak  ^ 
Who  has  not  sometimes  seen,  with  profound  emo- 
tion, in  these  young  hearts,  this  ardor  so  beautiful, 
this  docility  so  confiding,  this  generosity  so  coura- 
geous, these  strong  and  lively  inspirations,  which  well 
up  from  the  innocent  soul  of  youth ;  and,  when  the 
fitting  time  arrives,  that  sublime  taste,  that  enthu- 
siastic admiration  for  virtue  and  truth,  suddenly 
engage  them  ?  Ah,  how  much  they,  who  value  child- 
hood and  youth  so  little,  deceive  themselves !  Age 
pure  and  brilliant,  noble  and  sincere !  Heroic  time 
of  life  !  Admirable  age !  when  a  religious  education 
inspires  its  affections,  directs  its  efforts,  sanctifies  its 
ardor,  restrains  its  passions,  corrects  its  faults,  fore- 
sees its  errors,  and  embellishes  its  virtues.  It  is  the 
age  of  the  purest  thoughts,  the  most  generous  affec- 
tions, the  most  faithful  friendships,  and,  on  two  occa- 
sions, especially,  have  I  experienced  it,  of  intrepid 
courage  for  good,  and  even,  when  necessary,  mag- 
nanimous devotion.  Behold  the  blessed  privileges 
which  render  childhood  and  youth  worthy  of  the 
most  assiduous  care  and  the  tenderest  love !  it  will 
always  be  with  inexpressible  consolation  and  warm 
regard  that  a  religious  instructor  rests  his  eye  on 
childhood,  or  recalls  to  his  memory  those  virtues  so 
genuine,  and  sometimes  so  strong ;  so  artless  and  so 
simple  of  this  early  youth.     Pardon  me,  if  I  indulge 


THE    CHILD  ;    MY    EXPERIENCES.  3/ 

here  in  some  personal  recollections.  To  them  I  am 
indebted  for  the  little  authority  attached  to  my 
words ;  to  them  I  owe  those  sweet  emotions  of 
ancient  friendship  not  yet  extinguished  in  my  soul, 
and  which  probably  never  will  be,  and  on  account  of 
which  I  wish  to  return  for  a  moment  towards  a  past 
which  to  me  is  always  present.  During  the  pleasant 
and  happy  years  of  my  life  devoted  to  the  cares  of 
education,  I  loved  to  see  the  children  who  were  con- 
fided to  me.  It  was  one  of  my  pleasures  to  descend 
into  their  courts  and  gardens  at  the  hours  of  their 
recreation,  to  join  them,  and  sometimes  take  part  in 
their  amusements.  Many  of  them  may  remember  it. 
Or,  if  fatigue  did  not  permit  the  agitation  (frequently 
a  little  violent)  of  their  plays,  I  loved  to  become  a 
silent  and  tranquil  spectator,  and  to  walk  peacefully 
among  them,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  bright  effer- 
vescence of  their  gayest  pastimes.  I  found  there  an 
inexpressible  sweetness  and  peace.  At  times,  when 
my  ministry  obliged  me  to  mix  with  the  world  and 
its  affairs,  grieved  by  the  sorrowful  scenes  of  ever- 
changing  life,  I  returned  to  the  Petit  Seminaire  with 
a  secret  and  profound  satisfaction.  Half-an-hour 
with  my  children  dispelled  all  clouds  from  my  brow. 
I  forgot  the  world,  its  perplexities,  its  harrowing 
cares  and  sad  mistakes.  Sometimes,  looking  on 
from  afar,  the  noise  of  their  frolics,  the  bursts  of 
their  merriment,  their  artless  disputes,  their  prompt 
reconciliations,  the  liveliness  of  their  sallies,  and 
even  their  joy  to  see  me,  though  only  a  remote  spec- 
tator, caused  me  joy ;  then,  their  increasing  eager- 
ness,  when   they  found  me  a  nearer  witness ;  and 

4 


38  THE    CHILD. 

judge  if  their  raptures  and  success  did  not  produce  a 
sweet  refreshment  in  my  soul,  for  which  I  thanked 
God  —  asking  of  Him  to  continue  to  bless  this  lov- 
ing, amiable,  and  faithful  flock;  this  generation  of 
opening  promise ;  this  precious  deposit  committed 
to  my  zeal  and  care ;  the  best  hope  of  religion  and 
country.  I  have  seen  men  of  the  world,  honorably 
connected  during  many  long  years  with  all  the  prin- 
cipal affairs  of  their  country,  experience  the  same 
impressions  at  the  sight  of  our  children.  I  have 
seen  them  moved  almost  to  tears,  whilst  they  con- 
templated, under  the  cool  shades  of  our  house  at 
Gentilly,  ^  these  numerous  young  folk,  in  gay  and 
giddy  swarms,  dotted  around,  as  thick  and  pleasant- 
looking  as  the  flowers  of  the  fields,  tasting,  through 
their  innocent  plays,  such  pure  delight.  I  also  loved 
to  superintend  their  labors.  How  many  times  have 
I  left  my  own  occupations  to  surprise  them  at  study ! 
Yes ;  it  was  a  noble  sight  to  behold  all  those  chil- 
dren collected,  studious,  and  silent !  —  those  two 
hundred  young  minds,  intent  on  understanding, 
eager  to  penetrate  and  admire  the  great  master- 
pieces of  selected  and  varied  literature.  It  delighted 
my  eyes  and  my  heart.  But  of  this  kind,  nothing 
could  equal  the  pleasure  their  examinations  gave  me. 
When  I  heard  them  recite  with  marked  self-pos- 
session, explain  with  taste,  interpret  with  fidelity, 
warmth,  and  enthusiasm,  the  finest  pages  of  Virgil, 
Homer,  Cicero,  Titus  Livius,  Fenelon,  and  Bossuet,  I 
felt  profoundly  happy.     What  could  be  more  consol- 

^  A  little  village,  one  league  from  Paris,  where  the  Petit  Seminaire 
of  St.  Nicholas  had  a  country-house. 


THE    CHILD  ;    MY    EXPERIENCES.  39 

ing  for  us  than  to  see  them  thus  happily  sensible  to 
the  noble  pleasures  of  intellectual  culture  and  devel- 
opment ? —  their  dawning  reason  instructing  itself 
by  the  light  of  those  wonderful  minds,  sometimes 
inspiring  itself  around  the  hearths  of  these  great 
geniuses.  I  marvelled  that  the  genius  of  Homer,  of 
Virgil,  of  Bossuet,  of  St.  John  Chrysostom,  should 
journey  through  centuries  to  form  an  alliance  with 
those  young  minds,  influence  them,  fructify  and 
elevate  them  almost  to  the  proud  level  of  their  own. 
If  their  pastimes  and  studies  afforded  me  such  pleas- 
ure, what  shall  I  say  of  their  piety.!*  It  can  hardly 
be  related.  How  delightful  to  see  them  collected 
in  their  pious  sanctuary  !  What  lively  faith  !  What 
fervor  in  prayer !  On  our  feast-days  and  those  heav- 
enly mornings,  the  remembrance  of  which  they  can 
never  lose,  the  Angel  of  the  Lord  seemed  really  to 
welcome  them,  and  shelter  them  under  his  sacred 
wing.  It  was  on  those  blessed  days,  especially,  that 
I  liked  to  draw  near  and  converse  with  them ;  to 
look  closely  into  their  hearts.  It  appeared  to  me 
that  happiness,  the  peace  of  innocence,  and  all  the 
perfumes  of  heaven,  dwelt  there.  No  doubt,  the 
cares  of  the  human  state  came  in  their  time  to 
trouble  these  joys  of  innocence  and  grace;  but 
these  light  clouds  of  childhood  once  dispersed,  I  dis- 
covered in  the  depth  of  these  young  souls,  as  it  were, 
a  sky  of  azure,  where  God  Himself  caused  to  shine,  in 
an  horizon  of  infinite  purity,  lights  of  a  divine  splen- 
dor. It  was  then  an  amiable,  a  noble  modesty ;  this 
virtue,  which  so  profoundly  ignores  itself,  enhanced 
and  concealed  all  that  they  did,,,.  Their  lightest  dis- 

fV^   OP  THR^^^^ 

UUI71E3IT7J 


40  THE    CHILD. 

course,  their  simplest  words,  had  hidden  ineffable 
graces,  which  it  became  hopeless  to  resist. 

In  those  sweet  and  familiar  conversations,  how 
many  times  have  I  gleaned  from  the  lips  of  child- 
hood ideas  of  the  most  sublime  simplicity !  My  ten- 
derness for  them  was  great ;  nevertheless,  I  could 
but  imperfectly  express  to  them  the  feelings  of  my 
heart ;  especially  for  those  in  whom  I  saw  grace  thus 
gradually  transforming,  softenings  purifying,  and  en- 
nobling nature.  How  many  have  there  not  been 
among  them  of  whom  I  can  say,  that  I  recognized 
and  loved  in  them  God  present  and  personified, 
under  the  most  amiable  exterior !  Their  childhood 
was  that  of  the  Saviour !  like  Him,  they  increased 
in  age,  in  wisdom,  and  in  grace  before  God  and  men. 
I  have  often  asked  myself.  Whence  comes  this  inex- 
pressible charm  of  childhood  and  youth  ?  Why  has 
this  early  youth  so  much  of  grace  that  charms  and 
softens,  but  never  wearies  ?  A  friend  whom  I  ven- 
erate, one  day  replied  to  me  :  **  No  doubt,  childhood 
is  simplicity,  candor,  innocence ;  but  what  adds  to 
all  this  an  undefinable,  irresistible  charm  is,  though 
the  child  is  the  joy  of  the  present,  he  is  especially 
the  hope  of  the  future !  "  These  words  struck  me, 
and  recalled  those  which  were  addressed  to  Louis 
XV.  by  a  lady  who  was   present  at  his  consecration 

—  she  was  the  Marchioness  de  Pisieux  :  —  '*Ah, 
sire,"  said  she,  "  it  was  you  who  should  then  be  seen 

—  you  were  beautiful ;  beautiful  as  hope  !  "  It  was 
saying  all.  A  child-king  could  not  receive  more  del- 
icate praise  —  a  finer  lesson.  But  always,  and  what- 
ever may  be  his   condition,  the  child  is  the  smiling, 


THE  child;   my  experiences.  41 

the  beautiful,  the  sweet,  the  pure  hope.  The  Holy 
Scriptures  have  lavished  upon  him  the  most  gracious 
comparisons.  The  child  is  a  tender  shoot,  a  weak 
plant,  it  is  true ;  but  which  will,  perhaps,  one  day  be 
a  great  tree,  laden  with  all  the  fruits  of  virtue,  and 
casting  its  glorious  shadow  afar.  He  is  a  flower 
ready  to  blow,  and  which  promises  a  rich  blossoming. 
If  he  appears  already,  in  his  first  hour,  so  beautiful, 
what  will  he  be  when  clothed  with  all  the  charms  and 
embellished  with  all  the  gifts  of  heaven }  he  will  rise 
up  to  adorn  the  earth.  Again,  the  child  is  a  weak 
brook,  a  newly-born  spring ;  but  he  will,  perhaps, 
become  a  majestic  river.  The  teacher  is  the  clever 
surveyor,  of  whom  the  Holy  Book  speaks :  his  hand 
directs  those  docile  waters,  guiding  them  where  he 
pleases,  and  never  permitting  any  strange,  impure, 
or  bitter  waters  to  disturb  their  course.  Yes ;  the 
child  is  the  hope  —  the  hope  even  of  heaven  ;  for  he 
is  the  heir  of  the  eternal  palms,  the  object  of  God's 
complacency,  the  brother  and  the  friend  of  the 
angels.  He  is  the  hope  of  the  earth,  of  which  he  is 
already  the  riches  and  the  treasure,  and  of  which  he 
will  one  "day  be  the  strength  and  glory.  He  is  the 
hope  of  his  country  and  of  all  humanity,  which  re- 
news itself  and  grows  young  again  in  him.  He  is, 
especially,  the  hope  of  the  family,  of  whom  he  is  the 
joy  and  the  delight,  and  of  whom  he  will  one  day  be 
the  crown  and  the  honor.  Lovable  creature!  —  his 
first  appearance  in  the  world,  his  first  smile,  his 
first  look,  is  a  sign  of  peace,  an  omen  of  serenity 
for  all.  Gaze  on  him :  there  is  no  cloud  on  his 
forehead ;  he  ignores  the  past,  he  smiles  at  the  pres- 

4* 


42  THE    CHILD. 

ent,  he  bounds  towards  the  future,  and  seems  to  bear 
every  one  there  with  him.  Sometimes  I  also  ask  my- 
self:  Why  does  he  give  so  much  pleasure  to  his  old- 
est relatives  ?  they  never  weary  of  looking  at  him, 
blessing  him,  listening  to  him,  admiring  his  strength, 
his  agility,  his  grace.  The  brightness,  the  sweetness 
of  that  smile,  the  transparency  of  that  look,  the  lim- 
pidity of  that  countenance;  no  doubt  all  this  re- 
minds them  that  -we  grow  old,  that  we  wither,  that 
we  die  every  day ;  but  also  that  we  should  neither 
wither,  nor  grow  old,  nor  die  :  and  the  child  is  to 
them  a  remembrance,  a  reflection  of  that  immortal 
youth  which  was  the  primitive  inheritance  of  our 
nature.  Nevertheless,  I  will  say  it,  at  the  risk  of 
repeating  myself,  the  more  I  reflect  upon  it,  the  less 
I  am  surprised  that  the  Son  of  God,  in  His  passage 
on  earth,  should  have  loved  children,  and  shown 
His  joy  in  blessing  them.  Jesus  Christ  loved  men, 
and  He  blessed  them  all  in  blessing  childhood, 
which  is  the  hope  of  the  great  human  family.  Who 
is  not  acquainted  with  the  scenes  of  the  Gospel  ? 
Our  Lord,  passing  through  the  towns  and  cities, 
doing  good,  and  healing  the  sick.  The  mothers, 
always  so  clever  at  divining  the  hearts  worthy  of 
them,  hastening  on  His  footsteps,  leading  to  Him 
their  little  children,  asking  of  Him  to  bless  them. 
The  children  and  the  mothers  were  so  numerous  that 
the  wearied  apostles  wished  to  send  them  away. 
But  the  Divine  Master  ordered  that  they  should  give 
place  to  them :  **  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto 
me,"  said  He ;  ''  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  for 
those  who  resemble  them."     Then  taking  these  little 


THE    CHILD  ;    MY    EXPERIENCES.  43 

children,  He  placed  His  hands  on  their  heads, 
blessed  them  with  tenderness,  pressed  them  to  His 
heart,  and  repeated  :  *'  Suffer  little  children  to  come 
unto  me ;  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  for  those  who 
resemble  them."  That  was  saying  everything :  the 
price  of  eternal  life  was  revealed ;  the  necessity  of  a 
regeneration  and  a  new  innocence  was  declared ;  and 
henceforth  the  gates  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven 
should  remain  firmly  closed  against  whosoever  refused 
to  descend  to  that  age.  Even  if  the  Son  of  God 
should  have  come  from  heaven  to  say  this  alone,  it 
would  suffice  for  His  glory  and  the  happiness  of  man- 
kind. Who  had  said  it  before  Him  I  who  had 
thought  and  felt  after  this  manner.?  During  four 
thousand  years  —  saving  some  cold  words  dropped 
from  the  minds  of  a  philosopher — childhood  had 
been  the  object  of  the  contempt  of  sages  and  the 
cruel  carelessness  of  legislators  !  But,  in  the  midst  of 
universal  corruption,  it  was  the  dearest  and  the  only 
love  of  heaven ;  and  when  the  Father  of  the  family 
came  to  seek  again  His  children,  when  the  Creator 
came  to  make  Himself  known  to  His  own,  it  was 
not  by  pompous  words  He  declared  Himself.  No ; 
before  showing  Himself  as  the  Master  and  Teacher 
of  the  world,  it  pleased  Him  to  reveal  Himself  under 
a  more  touching  aspect  and  a  more  tender  name. 
They  understood  well  the  greatness  and  the  power  of 
the  King  of  Heaven ;  but  it  was  especially  as  a  ten- 
der Father  they  understood,  above  all.  His  love ;  and 
when  He  said,  "  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto 
me,  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  for  those  who  resem- 


44  THE    CHILD. 

ble  them,"  fathers  and  mothers,  melted  by  it,  pros- 
trated themselves  at  His  feet,  and  adored  Him. 

Ah !  I  understand  why  the  prophets  have  exalted 
by  such  magnificent  praises  the  glory  of  the  patri- 
archs, and  the  noble  pride  of  maternal  fecundity ! 
In  concluding  these  lines,  I  will  willingly  cry  out 
with  them,  and  repeat  the  evangelical  exclamation : 
"  Blessed  are  the  mothers  whose  wombs,  holily  fruc- 
tified, have  given  to  earth  and  heaven  a  numerous 
offspring !  "  "  Blessed  are  the  breasts  which  have 
suckled  them ! "  Never  has  a  mother  placed  more 
noble  jewels  on  her  bosom  ;  never  did  a  more  beauti- 
ful crown  encircle  her  glorious  forehead ! 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   SPOILED    CHILD. 

The  spoiled  child !  I  could  have  wished  not  to 
discourse  on  this  painful  subject;  but  I  cannot  avoid 
it,  especially  in  a  book  which  treats  of  authority  and 
respect.  The  deadly  enemy  of  authority  and  respect 
is  the  spoiled  child.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
spoil  a  child  is  to  fail  as  sadly  as  possible  in  the 
respect  that  is  due  to  the  dignity  of  his  nature, 
and  the  interest  which  his  destiny  and  his  honor 
clairri.  Persons  at  times  laugh  in  speaking  of  spoiled 
children.  I  have  never  laughed  at  them ;  the  sight 
of  a  spoiled  child  has  never  drawn  from  me  a  smile. 
Nothing  is  less  pleasing.  It  is  to  me  something 
frightful  —  frightful  at  the  present,  frightful  in  the 
future.  Justice  and  truth  often  pierce  through  the 
levity  of  the  words  of  men :  he  is  an  "  enfant  terri- 
ble," they  say  sometimes,  with  an  agreeable  careless- 
ness, or  even  a  certain  satisfied  vanity.  Yes,  ter- 
rible ;  and  more  so  than  they  will  some  day  wish  him 
to  be !  for  it  is  truly  of  the  spoiled  child  that  the 
words  of  Holy  Scripture  may  be  quoted  :  — • "  The 
whelp  will  become  a  lion,  and  will  learn  one  day  to 
devour  men."  (Ezechiel,  xix.  6.)  "  What  do  you 
do  all  day  ?  "  said  some  one  to  a  young  wife.  "  I 
occupy  myself  in  spoiling  my  children,"   she  said. 

45 


46  THE    CHILD. 

That  was,  in  her  idea,  but  a  sally  more  or  less  witty ; 
but  these  words  were  more  serious  than  she  thought. 
By  them  she  bitterly  condemned  the  many  imprudent 
mothers  who  seem,  in  a  word,  to  have  no  other  occu- 
pation but  that  of  spoiling  their  children  during 
the  first  part  of  their  lives.  She  condemned  herself 
bitterly.  She  knew  it  later,  by  cruel  experience. 
''But  the  children  are  so  young,"  they  say;  "what 
harm  is  there  in  spoiling  them  a  little.?  It  is  of  no 
consequence ;  it  is  only  a  matter  of  some  years." 
No;  it  is  for  life.  The  Eternal  Truth  has  pro- 
nounced the  formal  oracle  on  it — ''The  young  man 
shall  be  in  more  advanced  age  that  which  they  will 
have  made  him  in  his  childhood."     (Prov.  xx.  6.) 

There  are  many  methods  of  spoiling  a  child :  his 
mind  may  be  spoiled  by  the  thoughtless  exaggeration 
of  praise ;  his  disposition  may  be  spoiled  by  allowing 
him  his  own  will  in  everything ;  his  heart  may  be 
spoiled  by  occupying  one's  self  to  excess  with  him  — 
adoring  him,  idolizing  him.  All  these  methods  of 
spoiling  children,  this  sad  art  of  depraving  an  age 
which  is  the  hope  of  an  entire  life,  may  be  attributed 
to  the  development  of  those  two  fatal  principles,  the 
sources  of  all  human  perversity  —  effeminacy  and 
pride.  Nothing  can  give  an  idea  of  what  children 
become  who  are  spoiled  by  effeminacy;  who  are 
spoiled  because  too  many  caresses  are  bestowed  on 
them ;  because  too  much  tenderness  is  shown  to 
them ;  because  everything  is  granted  to  their  tastes, 
their  appetites,  their  looks,  their  idleness,  and  their 
wishes.  They  are  sometimes  truly  little  wild  ani- 
mals.    They  appear,  and  usually  are,  what  are  called 


THE  SPOILED    CHILD.  4/ 

pretty  children ;  gracious  and  complaisant  fawners. 
There  is  no  insinuating  little  contrivance,  no  agree- 
able meanness,  of  which  they  do  not  possess  the 
secret,  in  order  to  obtain  what  they  desire  from  you : 
if  you  do  not  regard  them  closely,  you  find  them 
charming ;  but  if  you  suddenly  perceive  their  clever- 
ness and  your  own  weakness ;  if  you  attempt  resist- 
ance ;  if  you  require  from  them  the  least  labor,  the 
lightest  application  —  immediately  temper,  angry  and 
pouting  silence,  or  even  brutal  and  violent  rudeness, 
reveal  to  you  that  these  children  —  so  amiable  —  are 
infant  deceivers ;  that  at  heart  and  in  truth,  like 
tamed  animals,  they  are  sensible  only  to  the  bait  by 
means  of  which  they  are  tamed ;  that  they  become 
again  wild  and  wicked,  as  soon  as  anything  is  refused 
to  their  appetites.  Perhaps  I  exaggerate.  Is  this 
age,  so  tender,  capable  of  so  much  wickedness  ? 
Here  is  what  Fenelon  and  St.  Augustine  thought  of 
it,  and  what  they  remark,  in  speaking  of  the  earliest 
childhood :  "  Consider,"  said  Fenelon,  '*  how  from 
this  age  children  seek  those  who  flatter  them,  and 
avoid  those  who  try  to  control  them ;  how  well  they 
know  whether  to  cry  or  to  be  silent,  in  order  to 
obtain  what  they  wish  for ;  how  much  they  have 
already  of  artifice  or  jealousy."  '*  I  have  seen," 
says  St.  Augustine,  **a  jealous  infant!  He  could 
not  yet  speak,  but  with  a  pale  face  and  angry  eyes 
he  looked  at  the  child  that  sucked  with  him."  Cer- 
tainly I  do  not  like  dry,  hard,  and  haughty  children ; 
but  tender,  insinuating,  supple,  caressing  children, 
though  more  amiable  at  first  sight,  are,  in  my  opin- 
ion, not  less  to  be  suspected,  and  incur  the  greatest 


48  THE    CHILD. 

danger  in  their  education  ;  and  what  adds  to  the 
peril  is,  we  are  easily  taken  by  them.  The  cleverest 
are  often  deceived  in  them.  ''  It  is  necessary  to 
observe,"  says  Fenelon,  ''that  there  are  children 
whose  dispositions  deceive  one  greatly.  They  ap- 
pear pleasing  at  first,  because  the  early  graces  of 
childhood  have  a  lustre  which  covers  everything,  and 
one  sees  in  them  something  tender  and  amiable, 
which  prevents  us  from  examining  closely  and  in 
detail  the  features  of  the  face."  And  then  what  hap- 
pens ?  One  amuses  himself  with  them ;  sometimes 
boasts  of  them ;  flatters  them  ;  and  permits  them  to 
be  flattered  by  every  one,  by  little  slaves,  by  servile 
women,  who  seek  to  insinuate  themselves  about  them 
by  mean  and  dangerous  fawning,  humoring  all  their 
whims,  and  nourishing,  as  if  it  were  a  pleasure,  the 
most  depraved  of  their  little  passions.  Soon  the 
deceitful  graces  of  childhood  vanish^  the  brightness 
becomes  extinct,  the  tenderness  of  heart  is  lost ; 
suddenly  is  discovered  in  them  a  desolating  dryness, 
a  profound  depravity,  and,  in  the  end,  these  pleasing 
children  become  truly  frightful ;  it  is  perceived  then, 
but  when  too  late,  that  there  are  no  beings  more  hard, 
more  wicked,  more  haughty,  more  violent,  more  ego- 
tistical, more  ungrateful,  more  unjust,  more  odious, 
than  children  spoiled  by  effeminacy.  Pardon  me  for 
dwelling  on  such  painful  details.  Nothing  has  less 
charm  for  me.  I  do  it  only  through  compassion, 
through  duty,  through  charity,  in  order  to  spare  to 
parents,  to  families,  to  children  themselves,  the  un- 
doubted calamities  which  are  the  necessary  conse- 
quences of  the  evil  that  I  deplore.     Weak  and  incon- 


THE  SPOILED    CHILD.  49 

siderate  parents  who  play  with  the  rising  passions  of 
their  sons  and  their  daughters,  who  seek  but  to  divert 
themselves  with  them  during  their  childhood,  even  to 
permitting  them  all  kinds  of  excess,  have  not  med- 
itated on  these  things ;  have  not  foreseen  all  they 
will  one  day  have  to  suffer  from  the  licentiousness, 
the  ingratitude,  and  the  passions  of  these  unfortunate 
children.  Let  them  think  of  it,  at  least  to-day,  and 
allow  me  to  call  all  their  attention  to  this  grave  sub- 
ject. The  pagans  themselves  understood  all  the  im- 
portance of  it:  **  Above  all/'  said  an  ancient  philos- 
opher, "  above  all,  let  the  life  of  children  be  frugal, 
their  clothing  simple,  and  of  the  same  kind  as  that 
of  their  school-fellows.^     Do  not  permit  them  to  fall 

1  Nothing  is  worse  for  children,  spoils  them  more  sadly  and  more 
quickly,  than  vanity  in  dress.  It  is  necessary  to  inspire  them  at  an 
early  age  with  contempt  for  it.  As  for  me,  at  the  Petit  Seminaire  of 
Paris,  I  mercilessly  banished  all  vain  refinements  of  dress.  For  ex- 
ample, I  never  permitted  the  display  of  watches  and  gold  chains.  I 
said  to  them  :  "  You  shall  wear  a  gold  chain  when  you  merit  it.  Be 
first  in  your  class.  It  will  then  be  a  just  and  honorable  distinction  of 
genius,  labor,  and  good  conduct."  Perfumes,  and  those  who  used 
them,  I  always  condemned  unmercifully.  I  said  to  them,  and  I  re- 
peated to  them,  when  necessary,  the  saying  of  the  ancients  :  "  Hoc 
mihi  suspectum  est  quod  oles  bene  .  .  .  non  bene  olet,  qui  bene  sem- 
per olet."  With  respect  to  those  who  gave  too  much  attention  to 
their  hair,  I  repeated  bluntly  that  which  a  man  of  great  experience 
said  to  me  one  day  :  "  Be  certain  that  a  school-boy  who  combs  him- 
self with  affectation,  and  looks  after  his  cravat,  becomes  a  bad 
scholar,  and  is  most  frequently  on  the  eve  of  being  disorderly  in  his 
behavior."  Many  may  consider  this  severe  ;  but  it  is  the  severity  of 
experience.  To  return  to  the  subject  of  watches  and  gold  chains  :  I 
have  never  relished  the  religion  of  parents  who  promised  vanities  of 
this  kind  to  their  children,  as  rewards  on  the  day  of  their  first  com- 
munion. The  day  of  first  communion  requires  no  reward  but  itself. 
Besides,  they  are  a  real  danger  to  the  newly-born  piety  of  those  poor 
5 


50  THE    CHILD. 

into  idleness  and  sloth.  Remove  all  approaches  to 
effeminacy :  nothing  disposes  more  to  passion  than  a 
delicate  and  effeminate  education.  The  indulgence 
granted  to  only  sons,  and  the  liberty  which  wards 
enjoy,  are  inevitable  sources  of  corruption.  What 
can  become  of  a  child  to  whom  nothing  has  ever 
been  refused,  whose  anxious  mother  has  unceasingly 
dried  his  tears,  and  who  has  always  been  right  in 
opposition  to  his  masters  ?  It  is  necessary  to  pre- 
vent children  from  being  flattered  Let  them  hear 
the  truth ;  let  them  sometimes  understand  fear,  and 
always  respect ;  let  them  have  deference  for  their 
superiors,  and  never  obtain  any  thing  by  anger.  That 
which  you  refused  them  when  they  wept,  grant  them 
when  they  become  calm."     (Seneca,  v.  vii.  p.  i6i.)^ 

children.  I  have  sometimes  seen  the  watch  more  adored  than  God 
Himself  on  this  great  day.  Even  religious  and  wise  parents  entertain 
strong  illusions,  when  they  imagine  things  relating  to  the  soul  can  be 
dealt  with  by  such  means.  I  remember,  among  others,  a  very  honest 
man,  to  whom  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  complain  of  his  son.  He  was 
a  very  giddy,  indocile,  turbulent  child.  I  believed  I  ought  to  warn 
the  father,  even  in  presence  of  the  child,  that,  if  he  did  not  soon  make 
a  serious  and  profound  change,  his  first  communion  would  be  impos- 
sible. The  father  was  greatly  moved,  but  the  child  remained  insen- 
sible. Then  this  excellent  man  began  to  weep  ;  and  seeing  that  the 
moment  had  come  to  spare  nothing,  in  order  to  soften  his  son,  and 
induce  hini  to  make  an  effort  to  improve,  he  turned  towards  him  with 
a  lively  emotion,  and  said  to  him  :  "  What  trouble  you  give  me  ! 
Well,  listen,'  if  you  make  your  first  communion,  I  will  give  you  a 
horse."  He  was  an  old  officer  and  a  great  sportsman.  It  can  be  well 
understood  that  his  exhortation  gave  me  but  slender  assistance. 

1  "Tenuis  ante  omnia  victus,  et  non  pretiosa  vestis,  et  similis  cultus 
cum  aequalibus.  In  desidiam  otiumque  non  resolvemus,'et  procul  a 
contactu  deliciarum  retinebimus.  Nihil  enim  magis  facit  iracundos 
quam  educatio  mollis  et  blanda.  Ideo  unicis  quo  plus  indulgetur, 
pupillisque  quo  plus  licet,  corruptior  animus  est     Non  resistet  offen- 


THE    SPOILED    CHILD.  5I 

If  I  dwell  on  these  sad  remarks,  I  do  it  also 
through  compassion  for  the  teachers  of  youth,  in 
order  to  spare  them  all  that  is  most  unthankful  in 
their  task.  All  these  observations  are  the  result  of 
experiences  and  recollections  :  — 

"  Non  ignori  mali  miseris  succurrere  disco." 

In  the  laborious  functions  of  public  education,  I 
have  never  found  anything  more  sorrowful  to  see, 
more  painful  to  bring  up,  than  spoiled  children ;  and 
I  should  acknowledge  that  all  my  cares,  all  my  efforts, 
for  them,  nearly  always  failed.  I  say  it  especially  of 
children  spoiled  by  effeminacy  —  these  I  have  always 
found  almost  incurable.  Children  spoiled  by  pride 
sometimes  gave  us,  during  long  years,  the  hardest 
labor ;  but,  thanks  to  the  spirit  of  emulation,  to  the 
devotion,  the  enlightenment  of  the  masters,  thanks 
to  the  skilled  education  which  we  imparted,  we  have 
often  accomplished  the  end  with  time.  Children 
spoiled  by  pride  offer,  without  doubt,  a  sad  spectacle, 
but  at  all  times  a  spectacle  less  hideous  than  that  of 
children  spoiled  by  effeminacy.  Thanks  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  his  youth,  the  pride  of  a  child  can  never 
deeply  deprave  all  his  fine  and  noble  qualities. 
There  are  in  these  proud  natures  great  resources  for 
education  ;  while  in  children  spoiled  by  effeminacy 
there  remains  nothing  but  corruption,  vice,  a  savage 
and  a  sensual  egotism.     In  truth,  it  is  intellectual, 

sis,  cui  nihil  unquam  negatum  est,  cui  lacrymas  sollicita  semper  mater 
abstersit,  cui  de  pedagogo  satisfactum  est.  .  .  .  Longe  itaque  ab 
assentatione  pueritia  removenda  est :  audia  verum,  et  timeat  interim, 
vereatur  semper ;  majoribus  assurgat,  nihil  per  iracundiam  exoret, 
quod  flenti  negatum  est,  quieto  offeratur.  .  .  ." 


52  THE   CHILD. 

moral,  and  physical  annihilation  ;  nothing  is  sound  in 
them  but  a  depth  of  cowardly  effeminacy,  where 
every  evil,  every  ignominy,  every  moral  misery, 
springs  naturally  from  the  soil.  In  my  compassion 
for  them,  I  often  compared  them  to  young  shrubs 
which  a  treacherous  soil  has  nourished  with  poisoned 
juices;  to  tender  flowers  withered  by  mischievous 
"winds,  and  whose  natural  perfume  has  become  an 
odor  of  putrescence  and  death.  To  make  the  edu- 
cation of  such  a  child,  a  new  creation  is  necessary ; 
it  is  necessary  not  only  to  correct  but  to  remake 
nature.  Prodigious  undertaking! — -there  must  be 
time,  persistency,  patience,  firmness,  an  intelligence 
which  is  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  the  required  degree, 
and  which  would  be  even  insufficient  without  extraor- 
dinary grace  from  God.  The  most  merciful  and  the 
most  powerful  supernatural  action  only  can  accom- 
plish the  miracle  of  such  a  renovation.  I  would  also 
have  hope  of  it  before  the  first  communion ;  after  it, 
never.  Certainly  it  was  by  an  entirely  divine  inspi- 
ration that  the  sage  formerly  pronounced  these  grave 
maxims,  which  I  am  happy  to  bring  under  the  notice 
of  parents.  "  He  who  loves  his  children  never 
wearies  of  correcting  them,  hoping  thence  to  find  his 
happiness  in  them  at  the  end  of  his  days,  and  that 
he  will  never  see  them  begging  at  the  gate."  (Eccle- 
asticus,  XXX.  i.)  "You  have  children;  give  them  a 
good  education,  and  accustom  them  to  the  yoke  of 
obedience  from  their  tenderest  years."  (Id.  vii.  25.) 
"It  is  not  loving  one's  son  to  spare  him  chastise- 
ment :  when  one  loves  him  truly,  he  appHes  himself 
to   correct   him."      (Proverbs,   viii.    24.)     "  Chastise 


THE    SPOILED    CHILD.  53 

your  son  without  losing  courage,  lest  he  reduce  you 
to  the  necessity  of  wishing  him  dead."  (Id.  xix.  i8.) 
"The  horse  never  accustomed  to  the  bit  becomes 
unmanageable,  and  the  child  abandoned  to  his 
caprices  no  longer  knows  the  rein."  (Ecclesiasticus, 
XXX.  8.)  **  Flatter  your  son,  and  he  will  cause  you 
to  tremble ;  play  with  him,  and  he  will  grieve  you."^ 
(Id.  XXX.  9.)  ''  Be  not  too  familiar  with  him,  lest  you 
soon  have  cause  to  repent  of  it,  and  that  he  at  last 
reduce  you  to  despair."  (Ecclesiasticus,  xxx.  lo.) 
"  Render  him  not  master  of  his  actions  during  his 
youth ;  watch  him  even  to  his  thoughts."  (Id.  xxx. 
II.)  '*  Bow  down  his  head  and  curb  him  in  his 
youth :  chastise  him  severely  while  still  a  child,  lest 
he  harden  himself  and  wish  no  longer  to  obey  you, 
and  then  he  become  the  sorrow  of  your  soul."  (Id. 
xxx.  12.)  "Instruct  your  son  then;  labor  to  form 
him,  lest  he  dishonor  you  by  a  shameful  life."  (Id. 
xxx.  13.)  "  Permit  not  your  son  to  live  without  disci- 
pline and  rule."  (Prov.  xxiii.  13.)  "  If  you  bring  him 
up  with  firmness,  you  deliver  his  soul  from  death." 
(Prov.  xxiii.  14.)  "Folly  is,  as  it  were,  bound  and 
tied  up  in  the  heart  of  a  child  ;  it  is  the  rod  of  disci- 
pline that  will  drive  it  away."  "  Bring  up  your  son 
well,  and  he.  will  refresh  your  heart  and  delight  your 
soul."  (Prov.  xxix.  17.)  To  these  admirable  maxims 
I  will  add  only  one  observation,  which  justice  claims 
in  favor  of  one  particular  species  of  spoiled  children 
—  they  are  worthy  of  great  conipassion ;  and  at  all 
times  how  necessary  to  be  guarded  with  respect  to 
them !  I  speak  of  children  spoiled  on  account  of,  or 
under  pretext  of^  illness,  weakness,  or  physical  deli- 


54  THE    CHILD. 

cacy.  The  cares  given  to  sickly  children,  lavished  on 
them,  and  with  which  they  are  constantly  surrounded, 
sometimes  spoil  these  children  in  a  deplorable  manner. 
Nothing  is  more  fatal  to  a  child  than  to  be  during 
many  years  the  tender  and  only  object,  constantly  the 
object,  of  all  the  cares,  of  all  the  kind  attentions,  of  all 
the  pre-occupation,  of  a  father,  of  a  mother,  and  all  the 
servants  of  the  house.  They  know  not  how  to  deny 
him  anything;  the  thoughts  of  all,  the  eyes  of  all, 
are  unceasingly  turned  towards  him  ;  he  is  the  centre 
of  every  tenderness.  I  repeat  it,  nothing  is  more 
worthy  of  compassion,  because  it  is  an  evil  almost 
unavoidable,  and,  nevertheless,  a  great  evil ;  for  many 
long  years  of  good  health  and  good  education  will  be 
necessary  to  repair  such  a  misfortune.  It  is  well  at 
least  to  be  warned  of  the  danger,  and  to  avoid  all 
that  can  be  avoided.  We  should  try  not  to  give  this 
dear  little  invalid  useless  attendance ;  to  grant  noth- 
ing but  to  a  real  want,  with  a  wise  kindness,  a  true 
solicitude.  I  have  no  hesirtation  in  saying,  that  no 
education  requires  from  a  father  or  mother  more  wis- 
dom, more  foresight,  more  cleverness,  more  perspi- 
cuity, than  the  education  of  these  poor  children.  I 
must  now  speak  of  children  spoiled  by  pride.  They 
have  very  often  fine  and  gifted  natures ;  but  what 
dangers  their  education  encounters!  It  is  impos- 
sible to  tell  where  their  indocility,  their  imperti- 
nence, their  vanity,  their  ostentation,  their  hardness, 
their  naughtiness,  their  insolence,  ever  leads  them. 
If  education,  instead  of  correcting  in  time  these 
vicious  dispositions,  maintains  and  strengthens  them, 
they  will  one  day  make  their  parents  feel  the  weight 


THE    SPOILED    CHILD.  55 

of  this  pride,  nourished  with  fatal  complaisance. 
Alas !  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  it  is  most  fre- 
quently the  pride  of  the  parents  which  excites,  which 
develops,  which  gives  birth  to,  the  pride  of  the  chil- 
dren. Fenelon  formerly  remarked  this,  and  he  thus 
traced  the  portrait  of  a  child  spoiled  by  pride :  *'  His 
mother  had  nourished  in  him  a  naughtiness,  a  pride, 
which  tarnished  all  that  was  most  amiable  in  him. 
His  disposition  was  good  and  sincere,  but  not  win- 
ning ;  the  thought  of  pleasing  others  scarcely  entered 
his  mind ;  he  knew  not  how  to  grant  with  a  noble 
and  generous  spirit ;  he  appeared  neither  obliging, 
nor  sensible  to  friendship ;  neither  liberal  nor  grate- 
ful for  the  cares  bestowed  upon  him,  nor  attentive 
to  distinguish  merit ;  he  followed  his  fancy  with- 
out reflection.  The  happiness  of  serving  him  was, 
in  his  opinion,  sufficient  recompense  for  those  who 
waited  on  him.  When  there  was  question  of  pleas- 
ing him,  nothing  should  be  found  impossible,  and  the 
least  delay  irritated  his  ardent  temper.  He  had  been 
flattered  by  his  mother  from  his  cradle,  and  he  was  a 
great  example  of  the  misfortune  of  those  born  in 
high  station.  The  rigors  of  fortune,  which  he  felt  in 
his  early  youth,  had  not  been  able  to  restrain  this  im- 
petuosity and  naughtiness.  His  pride  always  rose 
again  like  the  supple  twig  which  re-elevates  itself  in 
spite  of  the  efforts  made  to  lower  it."  I  cannot,  then, 
too  frequently  repeat,  whether  it  be  to  parents  or  to 
teachers  :  Take  care ;  the  more  noble  and  more  gifted 
the  nature  of  the  child  you  bring  up,  the  more  you 
should  avoid  depraving  it  by  pride.  If  this  noble 
nature  has  the  determined  disposition  of  this  child, 


56  THE    CHILD. 

who  might  be  a  distinguished,  and  perhaps  a  supe- 
rior man,  you  will  make  a  tyrant,  an  odious  being  j 
he  will  look  upon  himself  as  different  from  the  rest 
of  men ;  it  will  seem  to  him  that  all  others  were 
placed  on  earth  but  to  please  and  serve  him,  to  an- 
ticipate all  his  wishes,  to  adore  all  his  caprices,  and 
address  everything  to  him  as  to  a  divinity :  like  that 
Duke  of  Burgundy,  of  whom  the  Duke  de  Saint 
Simon  tells  us  :**  From  the  age  of  seven  years  he 
was  hard-hearted,  passionate,  almost  furiously  so, 
towards  inanimate  things ;  frightfully  impetuous ; 
incapable  of  enduring  the  least  resistance,  even  from 
time  or  the  elements,  without  rushing  into  a  rage 
which  caused  one  to  fear  all  in  his  body  would  burst ; 
stubborn  to  excess ;  passionately  attached  to  every 
pleasure  and  good  cheer;  madly  to  the  chase;  to 
music  with  a  species  of  ravishment ;  again  to  play,  in 
which  he  could  not  endure  being  vanquished,  and 
where  the  danger  with  him  was  extreme  —  in  fine, 
given  up  to  every  passion,  and  transported  by  every 
pleasure ;  often  sullen,  barbarous  in  raillery  ;  striking 
the  ridiculous  with  an  accuracy  which  overpowered ; 
regarding  men,  from  the  heights  of  his  heaven,  but 
as  atoms,  with  whom  he  had  no  resemblance  whatso- 
ever." Behold  what  a  bad  early  education  had  done 
for  this  child !  of  whom  the  education  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Cambrai  afterwards  made  that  admirable 
prince,  whom  even  Voltaire  praises,  saying,  ''  Under 
his  reign  France  had  been  too  happy."  If  this  gifted 
nature,  notwithstanding  its  talents,  be  vain  and  weak, 
your  educating  his  pride  will  make  of  him  a  fool ;  a 
silly,  vile,  false  being,  speaking  of  everything  at  ran- 


THE    SPOILED    CHILD.  5/ 

dom,  incapable  of  serious  study,  of  eminent  success ; 
at  most  what  is  called  a  nice  young  man,  that  is  to 
say,  a  cockscomb ;  useless  to  himself  and  every  one 
else,  and  who  often,  if  circumstances  conduce  to  it, 
finishes  at  the  age  of  twenty-five  by  dishonoring  him- 
self and  his  family.  Fenelon,  that  great  master  in 
education,  wished  that  this  misfortune  should  be 
guarded  against  from  the  tenderest  infancy,  and,  in 
order  that  children  should  not  become  what  at  pres- 
ent are  called  superb  lions,  instructs  us  not  to  make 
silly  fools  of  them  in  the  beginning.  My  readers 
will,  I  trust,  judge  kindly  of  me  for  bringing  under 
their  notice  these  observations,  so  delicate  and  so 
profound.  **  The  amusement,"  said  he,  ''which  peo- 
ple wish  to  draw  out  of  these  pretty  children  often 
spoils  them ;  they  accustom  them  to  hazard  saying 
everything  that  comes  into  their  minds,  and  to  speak 
of  things  of  which  they  have  not  yet  a  distinct 
knowledge;  thus  they  acquire  for  life  the  habit  of 
judging  rashly,  and  speaking  on  subjects  of  which 
they  have  no  clear  ideas,  which  is  a  very  evil  dispo- 
sition of -mind.  This  amusement  drawn  from  these 
children  produces  a  still  more  pernicious  effect  — 
they  perceive  that  they  are  regarded  with  complai- 
sance, that  everything  they  do  is  remarked,  and  that 
they  are  listened  to  with  pleasure.  Hence  they  ac- 
custom themselves  to  expect  that  every  one  will  be 
always  occupied  with  them.  During  this  age,  when 
they  are  applauded,  and  have  not  yet  experienced  con- 
tradiction, they  conceive  chimerical  hopes,  \vhich  lead 
to  great  disappointments  during  their  lives.  I  have 
seen  children  who  thought  that  every  time  people 


58  THE    CHILD. 

spoke  in  private  they  were  speaking  of  them,  because 
they  observed  it  had  been  frequently  done.  They 
imagined  there  was  nothing  in  themselves  but  what 
was  extraordinary  and  admirable.  It  is  necessary, 
then,  to  take  care  of  children  without  letting  them 
see  that  we  think  much  of  them.  Point  out  to  them 
that  it  is  through  friendship  and  the  necessity  of  set- 
ting them  right  that  you  are  attentive  to  their  con- 
duct, and  not  through  admiration  of  their  wit. 
Again,  Fenelon  said :  "  Whatever  wit  one  finds  in 
them  surprises,  because  it  is  not  expected  at  that 
age.  All  faults  of  judgment  are  permitted  to  them, 
and  have  the  grace  of  ingenuity;  people  mistake  a 
certain  vivacity  of  body,  which  is  never  wanting  in 
children,  for  that  of  mind.  Hence  it  comes  that 
the  childh6od  which  seemed  to  promise  so  much 
gives  so  little.  Such  a  one  was  celebrated  for  his 
wit  at  five  years  of  age,  and  sank  into  obscurity,  and, 
in  a  measure,  contempt,  as  he  grew  up."  There  is 
another  species  of  little  prodigies  of  whom  it  is  neces- 
sary td  be  distrustful.  Excuse  what  I  am-  going  to 
say,  and  be  not  surprised  at  it.  Theirs  is  a  case  so 
delicate  and  so  important  that  I  cannot  be^'silent  on 
what  I  know  and  think  of  them.  I  speak  of  those 
little  prodigies  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  those  children 
naturally  correct  and  reserved,  who  always  appear  to 
have  no  faults,  and  grow  up  irreproachable.  At  the 
Petit  Seminaire  in  Paris,  I  felt  a  hidden  fear,  as  it 
were,  an  involuntary  terror,  every  time  a  father  or  a 
mother  brought  their  son  to  me,  saying,  **  We  have 
never  had  to  reprimand  him ;  he  is  truly  a  little  per- 
fection."    I  did  not  contradict  them  —  it  was  hardly 


THE    SPOILED    CHILD.  59 

possible  to  do  it  then  —  but  I  said  to  myself,  there  is 
rugged  work  before  me.  I  must  have  patience  with 
the  child  and  his  parents.  Perhaps  I  surprise  you ; 
but  this  surprise  will  cease  when  I  add  what  remains 
to  be  said  on  this  grave  subject.  Of  all  the  observa- 
tions which  twenty-five  years'  experience  in  educa- 
tion has  caused  me  to  make,  this  is  the  most  serious, 
the  most  profound,  even  the  most  sorrowful.  I  was 
frightened  not  only  when  parents  led  their  son  to  me, 
saying,  "  We  have  never  had  to  reprimand  him ; " 
but  I  was  still  more  frightened,  when,  after  many 
years  of  education  at  the  Petit  Seminaire,  in  spite  of 
our  care  and  our  vigilance,  we  ourselves  have  never 
had  to  address  a  reprimand  to  a  child.  When  we  also 
said,  **  He  is  perfection;"  and  when  charmed  with 
such  a  work  and  such  a  success,  we  treated  this 
child,  this  young  man,  as  perfection.  And  what 
came  to  pass  ?  Self-love  grew  in  him,  silently 
strengthened  itself,  and  sometimes  became  gigantic 
and  monstrous.  The  child  was  neither  effeminate, 
nor  vain,  nor  frivolous,  nor  weak.  He  had  a  serious 
mind,  steady  courage,  and  a  sensible  character. 
Frequently  he  possessed  not  only  the  taste,  but  the 
passion,  for  labor.  This  distinguished  nature,  watch- 
ful over  itself,  through  conscientiousness  and  also 
the  desire  for  praise,  mixed  with  a  subtle  pride,  had 
never  to  reproach  himself;  never  was  reprimanded 
by  his  masters ;  and  avoided  all  faults,  the  greatest  as 
well  as  the  lightest ;  and,  nevertheless,  evil  struck  in 
him  its  deepest  roots.  The  following  observation 
accounts  for  one  of  the  most  grievous  secrets  of 
human  nature :  The  homage  which  this  habit  of  vir- 


60  THE    CHILD. 

tue  attracts,  even  the  peace  which  it  gives,  has  its 
danger  —  it  spoils  the  heart  by  too  great  a  satisfac- 
tion with  itself,  which  renders  it  most  sensitive  to 
everything  that  disturbs  the  interior  peace,  and, 
when  mistakes  occur,  revolts,  exasperates,  and  sud- 
denly transforms  mildness  into  passion,  if  the  virtue 
be  not  solid,  and  has  not  been  frequently  tried  by  con- 
tradiction. Let  us  add,  there  is,  perhaps,  no  virtue 
that  does  not  cover  some  fault,  which  increases  and 
strengthens  under  its  shade  and  unknown  to  it,  like 
those  wild  plants  which  shoot  from  the  foot  of  a  fine 
tree,  and  only  appear  dangerously  bristling  with 
thorns  if  the  tree  falls.  I  was  many  years  before  I 
understood  the  danger  of  these  premature  perfec- 
tions; but  when  experience  at  length  enlightened 
me,  when  I  discovered  the  depths,  and  many  times 
the  abysses,  of  pride  concealed  in  these  gifted  na- 
tures, it  may  be  imagined  that  there  were  no  chil- 
dren to  whom  I  gave  more  care  and  attention.  It 
was  the  ruin  of  our  work  in  its  most  eminent  suc- 
cess, the  ruin  of  education  in  its  noblest  subjects, 
the  overturning  of  the  most  beautiful  edifice.  I 
have  no  hesitation  in  saying  there  is  something 
wanting  in  education  when  neither  fault  nor  reproach 
is  met  with.  How  many  times  have  I  not  said,  in 
looking  at  and  observing  these,  children.  When  can 
I  make  him  a  just  reprimand,  and  pierce  the  wound 
which  is  forming  in  his  soul  —  the  wound  which 
gnaws  it,  and  which  at  the  end  of  a  certain  number 
of  years  will  have  devoured  all  its  good  parts  ?  But 
this  operation  must  be  performed  at  once  with 
strength  and   tenderness ;  with    strength,  otherwise 


THE    SPOILED    CHlLD.  6l 

an  invincible  resistance   is  met  with.     Sheltered  in 
an  apparent  respect,  the  child  repulses  all  your  warn- 
ings and  all  your  lessons.      His  resistance  is  painted 
in  his  surprise,  in  the  play  of  his  countenance,  in  the 
colors  which  succeed  each  other  on  it,  in  a  certain 
cold  and  wounded  air,  and  even  in  his  silence  —  the 
token  of  his  offended  dignity.     It  is  then  that  rebel- 
lious pride  mounts  and  roars  in  his  heart  like  a  wave, 
and  you  obtain  from    him  but   an  insolent   disdain, 
an  unmanageable  revolt ;    it  is   then   you   must  use 
strength  to  break  it,  or  all  is  lost.     But  why  have  I 
also  said,  "  with    tenderness "  ?     Because,  after  you 
have  broken  this  pride,  if  the  child  does  not  feel  that 
you  are  inspired  by  the  tenderest,  the  most  devoted, 
a  paternal,  I  will  even  say  a  supernatural  and  divine 
affection,  he  will  retire  broken,  but  he  will  soon  rise 
up  again  and  hate   you;   frequently  both    hate   and 
despise  you ;  then  again  all  is  lost.     On  this  point 
there  remain  some  particular  remarks  important  to 
be   made.     Those    children    usually   revealed   them- 
selves, and  their  pretended  perfection  burst  forth  in 
some  great  fault,  about  seventeen  or  eighteen  years 
of  age,  sometimes  even  before,  and  it  was  most  fre- 
quently on    the  following   occasions:  —  If   their   ha- 
bitual success  suddenly  failed  them  when  they  went 
into  a    higher  class,    if,  in    changing  the   professor, 
they  met  one  less  favorable  to  them,  it  was  usually 
then  that  the  wound  of    their   heart  (//^^^  cordis), 
say  the  Scriptures,  discovered  itself  to  their  masters 
and  themselves.     Sometimes  they  suddenly  showed  a 
strange  aversion  to  their  new  class,  a  profound  indig- 
nation against  the  new'  professor ;    they  avoided  him, 
6 


62  THE    CHILD. 

and  tried  not  to  meet  him  in  recreation ;  they  turned 
aside  their  looks,  or  regarded  him  from  afar  with  eyes 
full  of  anxiety  and  resentment.  At  other  times  this 
change  was  owing  to  the  awakening  of  a  sentiment 
which  had  been  dormant  in  their  hearts,  and  of  which 
they  themselves  were  ignorant  during  the  innocuous 
days  of  childhood,  and  on  account  of  the  active  occupa- 
tions of  the  young  scholar.  This  sentiment  of  which 
I  speak  relates  to  the  social  condition.  The  appear- 
ance of  fellow-scholars,  whose  families  were  of  higher 
position,  richer  than  theirs,  gave  birth  to  bitter  com- 
parisons and  impotent  desires  ;  in  the  dark  vexation 
of  their  rebellious  pride  and  guilty  jealousy,  they 
felt  an  embarrassment  with  their  parents,  and  were 
less  happy  to  see  them.  Their  temper,  their  lan- 
guage, their  mien,  was  altered ;  and  we  know  not  to 
what  should  be  attributed  this  strange  and  evil  trans- 
formation. It  was  caused  by  the  vilest  of  all  pride 
having  taken  possession  of  them. 

This  phenomenon  of  perversion  manifests  itself 
sometimes  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  years  of  age,  and, 
as  I  have  already  said,  in  young  people  who  have 
never  had  a  single  reproach  made  to  them  until  then. 
Oh,  what  profound  and  skilful  tenderness  is  neces- 
sary to  win  back  these  poor  souls — to  triumph  over 
this  crisis!  It  is  the  finest  exercise  of  the  gift  of 
bringing  up  youth,  and  also  the  most  worthy  of  that 
holy  mission ;  every  means  is,  then,  good,  when  in- 
spired by  the  heart  and  devotion.  One  of  the  mild- 
est, and  perhaps  the  most  efficacious,  that  I  at  least 
have  tried,  is  to  go  straight  to  the  fact,  straight  to 
the  heart  of   the  child.     I  have  called  him  to  me ; 


THE    SPOILED    CHILD.  63 

said  to  him,  tenderly,  paternally,  You  are  sad,  my 
child  ;  this  goes  badly,  placing  my  hand  on  his  heart ; 
you  appear  to  me  less  happy  —  let  us  see,  have  you 
not  become  a  little  less  good  ?  —  that  often  happens 
without  one  being  aware  of  it  himself ;  as  for  me,  I 
have  no  reproach  to  make  you ;  but  you,  are  you 
satisfied  with  yourself  and  others  ?  Are  you  not 
hurt  by  somebody  or  something  ?  Let  us  honestly 
seek  out  the  guilty  one ;  is  he  around  you,  or  within 
yourself?  Is  it  not  pride  that  troubles  you  ?  In  this 
ill-humor  which  you  cannot  define,  is  there  not  some- 
what of  a  grudge  against  God,  His  Providence,  and  all 
the  world  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  nothing  around  you 
has  changed  —  your  parents,  your  masters,  are  still 
the  same  to  you.  May  it  not  be  you  who  are  a  little 
changed  to  them  ?  Put  your  hand  on  your  heart ; 
let  your  conscience,  your  reason,  your  religion,  your 
good-nature,  speak  coolly  before  God,  before  your 
best  friend.  Let  us  discover.  I  have  often  seen 
these  poor  children  melt  into  tears,  look  at  me  with 
confusion  and  emotion,  cast  themselves  into  my 
arms,  and  all  was  saved.  We  had  no  other  explana- 
tion ;  there  is  a  grief  and  shame  in  the  soul  which 
rnust  be  spared  —  it  is  sufficient  to  arouse  them. 
What  reflections  may  be  made  here,  not  only  on  the 
sad  infirmities  of  our  nature,  but  also  on  the  re- 
sources which  she  offers  when  religion,  coming  to 
her  aid,  touches  and  enlightens  her !  There  is  one 
observation,  alas !  too  universal,  too  incontestable, 
and  with  it  I  shall  conclude  this  chapter.  Original 
sin  has  impaired  the  most  natural  feelings,  and  also 
the  noblest  functions  of   the  human  heart.     I  have 


64  THE    CHILD. 

spoken  of  spoiled  children,  and  of  the  parents  who 
spoil  them ;  are  not  these  children  frequently  an  ex- 
ample of  the  former  of  those  alterations,  and  the 
parents  an  example  of  the  latter  ?  How  many  chil- 
dren do  we  see  without  gratitude  to  their  parents, 
without  affection,  without  respect  for  those  from 
whom  they  received  life,  nourishment,  every  care, 
and  alas,  too  assiduously,  an  education  full  of  vanity 
and  effeminacy !  But,  we  must  repeat  in  conclusion, 
if  the  children  be  frequently  so  guilty,  are  not  the 
parents  sometimes  more  so?  Does  not  every  sub- 
ject we  discoursed  on  in  this  chapter  sadly  demon- 
strate it  ?  In  order  to  be  convinced,  is  it  not  suffi- 
cient to  see  the  trouble  a  father  and  mother  have  not 
to  spoil  their  children,  and  the  struggles  they  must 
make  against  themselves  to  avoid  this  misfortune? 
Is  it  not  sufficient  to  see  the  point  where  their  good 
sense  and  uprightness  become  lost,  and  go  wander- 
ing in  a  profound  and  grievous  blindness  ?  Again, 
the  giddiness  and  thoughtlessness  of  young  parents 
have  a  fatal  influence.  In  a  word,  they  should  reflect 
in  proper  time  on  the  principles  to  be  followed  in 
the  education  of  their  children.  Nevertheless,  how 
many  alliances  are  contracted,  how  many  children 
grow  up  without  the  duties  of  their  education  ever 
for  a  moment  presenting  themselves  to  the  minds  of 
their  fathers  and  mothers  ;  how  many  families,  whose 
faults  and  imprudences  point  out  to  us  every  day 
that  there  are  but  too  many  parents  who  have  not 
the  least  idea  of  the  task  to  be  performed !  What 
deplorable  mistakes,  vicious  management,  and  dan- 
gerous  errors!      How   can   we   expect    from    such 


THE    SPOILED    CHILD.  6^ 

teachers  a  regular  rule,  a  system  of  education  based 
on  just  principles,  modified  according  to  the  wants 
that  present  themselves  ?  What  can  become  of  the 
child  given  up  to  himself,  false  in  his  early  develop- 
ment, and  deprived  of  healthy  moral  culture  ?  This 
is  what  Fenelon  asks  himself  in  pointing  out  the 
dreadful  consequences  of  this  negligence  and  this 
blindness :  ''  What,"  said  he,  "  will  become  of  chil- 
dren, who,  in  the  end,  make  up  the  human  species, 
if  their  mothers  spoil  them  from  their  earliest  years  ? 
The  disorders  of  men  are  frequently  caused  by  the 
bad  education  they  receive  from  their  mothers.'* 
What,  then,  should  they  do  ?  They  should  reflect, 
anticipate,  act  firmly  and  persistently,  whatever  it 
may  cost.  They  go  on  from  day  to  day,  till  children 
of  five  or  six  can  hardly  be  endured;  they  are  ami- 
able, they  laugh  at  their  faults  and  pretty  tricks, 
they  amuse  themselves  with  their  graceful  sauciness,. 
not  wishing  to  remember  that  these  children  of  five 
or  six  will  soon  be  twenty  and  thirty,  and  that  they 
will  make  their  parents  pay  dearly  for  the  misfortune 
of  having  spoiled  them  —  that  is  to  say,  lost  them. 
Montaigne  says  :  "  That  a  genuine  and  well-regulated 
affection  should  spring  from  and  increase  with  our 
knowledge  of  our  children,  and  then,  if  they  will  it, 
the  natural  inclination  keeping  pace  with  reason, 
cherishes  them  with  a  truly  paternal  friendship. 
How  frequently  is  it  not  the  contrary,  and  do  we  not 
usually  feel  ourselves  more  concerned  with  the  plays 
and  puerile  follies  of  our  children,  than  with  their 
more  improved  actions  afterwards,  as  if  we  loved 
6* 


66  THE    CHILD. 

them  for  our  pastime  —  even  as  apes,  not  as  men  !  "  ^ 
What  Montaigne  says  is  bitter,  but  not  wanting  in 
justness.  As  for  me,  whenever  I  was  condemned  to 
witness  the  bUndness  and  the  weakness  of  these 
parents  who  knew  only  how  to  spoil  their  children, 
when  I  saw  them  play  with  these  faults  which  be- 
come, later  on,  such  terrible,  and  sometimes  such 
cruel  passions,  I  repeated  to  myself,  with  sorrow,  the 
words  of  the  Scripture :  '*  The  whelp  will  become  a 
lion ;  he  who  plays  with  his  child  will  some  day 
weep."  A  mother  once  expressed  this  with  an  en- 
ergy perhaps  still  more  frightful ;  some  one  re- 
counted to  her  that  a  young  woman,  in  speaking  of 
the  education  of  her  children,  and  the  cares  it 
brought  on  her,  said :  "  It  is  twenty  years  of  tor- 
ture." "  She  deceives  herself,"  replied  this  mother, 
who  had  been  enlightened  by  a  much  longer  expe- 
rience :  *'it  is  at  twenty  the  torture  begins." 

1  Montaigne,  Essays,  b.  ii.  chap.  viii. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  CHILD  ;    SOME  ADVICE  ON   HIS    EARLY    EDUCATION. 

I  DO  not  wish  to  dwell  on  these  sad  thoughts.  It 
is  not  to  grieve  the  hearts  of  mothers  that  I  write, 
but  to  aid  them  in  the  sweet,  though  difficult,  task 
which  Providence  has  imposed  upon  them.  If  there 
be  some  among  them  deficient  in  the  courage,  I  dare 
not  say  the  intelligence,  to  fulfil  such  great  duties, 
there  is  a  much  greater  number  to  whom  religion 
and  love  have  revealed  the  admirable  art  of  bringing 
up  their  children  in  accordance  with  the  love  of  God 
and  the  wishes  of  nature.  It  is  of  these  women, 
truly  blessed  by  Heaven,  I  would  ask  in  this  moment 
some  practical  advice,  the  light  and  authority  of 
which  I  could  then  present  with  more  confidence  to 
all  mothers.  Let  them  understand  —  it  is  not  a 
treatise  on  elementary  education  that  I  intend  to 
offer  them  here,  but  only  some  advice;  some 
sketches,  the  bearing  of  which  their  penetration  and 
exquisite  tact  will  know  well  how  to  seize  and  apply. 
Others,  elsewhere,  have  already  written  much  on  this 
subject.  I  will,  then,  confine  myself,  to  some  essen- 
tial points.  Education  begins  even  with  the  birth  of 
the  child.  All  sages,  all  men  of  experience,  all  mas- 
ters of  ethics,  the  pagans  themselves,  have  pro- 
claimed it  —  the  day  the  child  opens  his  eyes  on  life, 

67 


6S  THE    CHILD. 

and  makes  his  first  cries  heard,  an  entire  series  of 
duties  relative  to  his  education  is  imposed  on  all 
around  him.  Be  not  deceived ;  the  training  of  this 
early  age  is  the  foundation,  the  base,  of  all  that  his 
later  development  in  more  advanced  education,  and 
even  his  application  during  the  whole  course  of  his 
life,  will  receive.  In  everything,  all  depends  on  the 
principles  —  this  is  a  trite  saying,  because  so  true  — 
but  it  is  especially  with  respect  to  education  that  we 
must  take  care  to  adhere  to  the  best  principles,  to  lay 
them  down  forcibly  from  the  beginning,  and  follow 
them  perseveringly.  Behold  the  terms  in  which  the 
great  Bossuet  remarks  the  decisive  importance  of  so 
commencing:  .''If  one  occupies  himself  with  his 
children  in  good  time,  paternal  influence  and  good 
precepts  can  then  accomplish  much.  On  the  con- 
trary, if  false  and  fatal  maxims  are  once  permitted  to 
enter  their  minds,  the  tyranny  of  habit  becomes  so 
invincible  in  them,  that  there  is  no  remedy  which 
can  cure  the  evil.  To  prevent  it  becoming  incurable, 
it  must  be  anticipated.  And,  nevertheless,  what 
comes  to  pass  and  what  is  done  with  this  first  age  of 
life.^"  "It  is  given  up,"  says  Fenelon,  "to  indis- 
creet and  disorderly  women;  though,"  he  adds,  "it 
is  the  age  when  the  deepest  impressions  are  made, 
and  which,  consequently,  has  the  greatest  influence  on 
the  whole  future  of  the  child."  The  sages  of  antiq- 
uity spoke  in  the  same  manner :  "  You  are  not  igno- 
rant," said  Plato,  "  that  in  everything  the  beginning 
is  the  great  affair,  especially  with  respect  to  young 
and  tender  beings ;  it  is  then  they  may  be  moulded, 
and  receive  the  imprint  which  you  wish  to  give  them. 


SOME   ADVICE    ON    HIS    EARLY   EDUCATION.  69 

Considering  this,  shall  we  suffer  children  to  hear  all 
sorts  of  fables  invented  by  the  first  comer,  and  their 
minds  to  take  in  opinions,  most  of  them  contrary  to 
those  which  we  know  that  they  will  require  in  mature 
age?"  (Plato,  Repub.,  book  ii.,  vol.  ix.,  pp.  105,  106.) 
Let  us,  then,  permit  nurses  to  relate  to  children  only 
well-chosen  fables,  and  to  use  still  more  care  in  form- 
ing their  minds  than  their  bodies.  It  must  be 
acknowledged,  that  even  Christian  parents  are  some- 
times so  ignorant  of  their  duties,  so  blind  to  all  con- 
cerning the  early  education  of  their  children,  and 
especially  so  imprudent,  so  inconsiderate  in  the 
choice  of  those  to  whose  care  they  commit  them  in 
their  early  years,  that  it  is,  unfortunately,  but  too 
necessary  to  dwell  on  this  point,  and  I  consider  it 
particularly  useful  to  bring  under  their  notice  that 
which  paganism  itself  formerly  said  on  this  subject. 
Plutarch,  in  a  treatise  on  the  education  of  children, 
expresses  himself  with  still  more  force  than  Plato  : 
'*  It  is  necessary  to  use  every  care  in  order  to  make 
a  good  choice  of  the  nurses  intrusted  with  their 
early  education.  In  a  word,  if  it  be  necessary  to 
mould  the  limbs  of  children  immediately  after  their 
birth,  that  they  may  not  contract  any  natural  defect, 
we  cannot  too  soon  form  also  their  dispositions  and 
their  manners."  The  mind  of  a  child  is  a  flexible 
paste,  which  receives  without  resistance  every  form 
that  we  wish  to  give  it  —  once  strengthened  by  age, 
it  bends  with  difficulty.  Seals  impress  themselves 
quickly  on  soft  wax ;  in  the  same  manner  the  pre- 
cepts we  give  to  these  still  tender  minds  easily  be- 
come imprinted,  .and  lea^e  deep  traces  there.     It  is 


70  THE    CHILD. 

for  this  reason  the  divine  Plato  so  expressly  recom- 
mends nurses  never  to  entertain  children  with  ridic- 
ulous tales,  which  fill  their  minds  with  false  and 
absurd  ideas.  Again,  from  the  same  motive,  we 
should  choose  with  care  the  young  servants  whom 
we  place  about  children  to  attend  or  be  brought  up 
with  them.  It  is  particularly  necessary  they  should 
have  pure  morals ;  in  the  second  place,  that  they 
know  their  own  language,  and  speak  it  correctly. 
Corrupt  servants  soon  communicate  to  children  the 
vices  of  their  language  and  their  morals.  The  wise 
Quintilian  also  has  consecrated  some  fine  pages  to 
this  important  subject.  It  would  be  too  long  to 
quote  them.  I  have  already  said,  the  cares  given  to 
these  early  years  are  the  commencement  of  all  that 
his  application  or  development  will  receive  later  on. 
Everything,  then,  requires  the  most  serious  atten- 
tion. Physical  education,  intellectual  education, 
moral  education,  and  religious  education  —  nothing 
should  be  abandoned  to  chance  —  nothing  should  be 
done  or  tried  at  random.  At  this  age,  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  comprises  almost  the  first  eight  or  ten 
years  of  life,  physical  education  is  important.  Some 
authors  of  more  or  less  weight  have  given  with  re- 
gard to  it  numberless  advices,  among  which  many 
are  wise,  though  mixed  with  strange  details  and 
thoughts,  which  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  approve  of. 
We  shall  confine  ourselves  to  desiring  that  this  first 
education  be  not  too  soft,  for  it  would  thus  develop 
beyond  measure  that  principle  of  effeminacy  and 
sensuality,  which,  later  on,  resists  every  effort  of  the 
most  serious  education,  and  also  of  grace ;  nor  too 


SOME    ADVICE    ON    HIS    EARLY   EDUCATION.  /I 

hard,  as  the  existence  and  organs  of  the  child  are 
still  so  frail.  "What  is  most  important  then,"  says 
Fenelon,  '*  is,  not  to  push  on  children  too  much ;  to 
strengthen  their  organs,  spare  their  health,  and  form 
them  gradually,  according  to  the  occasions  which 
naturally  present  themselves.  Nevertheless,  from 
that  time,  intellectual  education  should  likewise  be 
attended  to."  In  the  child,  the  labor  of  the  under- 
standing is  prodigious.  It  is  in  these  early  years' 
that  his  mind  acquires,  not  only  the  use  of  language 
and  the  knowledge  of  sensible  objects,  but  in  the  lan- 
guage and  ^knowledge  of  purely  spiritual  matters  a 
multitude  of  extraordinary  ideas.  We  know  that  this 
fact  has  excited  the  admiration  of  all  clear-sighted 
observers,  who  have  recognized  in  this  secret  and 
almost  entirely  spontaneous  work  one  of  the  most 
surprising  mysteries  and  greatest  benefits  of  Provi- 
dence. There  are  two  systems  by  which  children 
may  be  spoiled  in  their  early  intellectual  education ; 
the  one,  that  of  not  making  them  do  anything ;  the 
other,  that  of  making  them  do  too  much.  If  this 
first  education  be  wise  and  foreseeing,  no  doubt  it 
will  take  advantage  of  the  astonishing  dispositions  of 
childhood,  and  this  wonderful  opening  of  the  mind 
to  everything,  in  order  to  give  it  simple,  just,  clear, 
and  precise  ideas.  But  it  will  be  doubtful  of  the 
mania  for  creating  prodigies  of  six  or  eight  years  old, 
who  at  fifteen  or  twenty  become  children  of  tender 
parts.  If  it  be  real,  and  without  vanity,  it  will  apply 
itself  constantly  to  forming  the  speech  and  all  the 
language  of  the  child  to  a  proper  purity;  it  may, 
perhaps,  attach  too  much  importance  to  his  learning 


72  THE    CHILD, 

two  or  three  foreign  languages,  which  will  be  of  lit- 
tle use  later  on,  in  the  course  of  his  public  educa- 
tion ;  and,  nevertheless,  his  confused  notions  of 
them  sometimes  suffice  to  arrest  the  spring  of  the 
mind  in  more  serious  studies.  The  fault  that  I  point 
out  here  is  not  a  trifling  one.  Doubtless,  there  may 
be  great  advantages  in  learning  and  speaking  at  an 
early  age  some  foreign  languages ;  but  if  this  study 
be  badly  made,  badly  begun,  badly  continued,  it  may 
produce  the  gravest  inconvenience.  Fenelon,  in 
speaking  of  the  fancy  which  reigned  in  his  time  for 
making  young  children  learn  Italian  and  Spanish, 
went  so  far  as  to  say,  "  that  there  was  much  more 
to  be  lost  than  gained  in  this  study."  Again  said 
he  :  "  Even  when  you  can  advance  much  the  mind  of 
a  child  without  pressing  it,  you  should  fear  to  do  so ; 
the  danger  from  vanity  and  presumption  is  always 
much  greater  than  the  fruit  of  those  premature  edu- 
cations which  make  so  much  noise ;  into  a  reservoir 
so  small  and  precious  we  should  pour  only  the  most 
exquisite  things."  It  is  manifest  that  all  this  re- 
quires great  attention  and  rare  discernment.  I  have 
seen  children  condemned  to  do  nothing  during  the 
finest  years  of  their  youth,  from  fourteen  to  eighteen, 
because  from  six  to  ten  they  had  been  overpowered 
and  worn  out  with  work ;  nevertheless,  on  the  other 
side,  it  is  very  necessary  to  take  care,  that,  under  pre- 
text of  not  fatiguing  them,  children  are  not  allowed 
to  do  anything,  and  accustomed  to  live  in  idleness 
and  without  rule.  When  a  child  comes  to  a  certain 
age  without  applying  himself  to  anything,  it  is  im- 
possible to  inspire  in  hinj  a  desire  for  study  or  any 


SOME   ADVICE    ON    HTS   EARLY    EDUCATION.  73 

taste  for  solid  things  ;  everything  serious  appears  sad 
to  him;  everything  that  requires  continuous  attem^ 
tion  fatigues  him ;  the  inclination  to  pleasure,  which 
is  so  strong  during  youth,  the  example  of  children 
of  the  same  age  who  are  plunged  in  amusement  — all 
serve  to  make  him  fear  and  fly  the  application  of  an 
orderly  and  laborious  life.  These  first  studies  should 
be  extremely  simple  —  I  would  almost  dare  to  s^y 
they  cannot  be  too  much  so.  They  should  consist  of 
reading,  writing,  the  first  elements  of  arithmetic,  and 
some  ideas  of  history  and  geography.  That  is  abun- 
dantly sufficient  for  those  early  years.  It  is  impor- 
tant that  all  be  well  taught,  well  learned,  well  under^ 
stood.  Little  and  well  —  very  little  and  very  well— is 
the  great  principle.  The  history  of  the  early  years 
of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  shows  us  what  intellectti^l 
education  can  and  ought  to  do  for  man  at  this  age,  and 
what  resources  it  finds  in  him  to  form  and  improve 
him.  We  know  that  F^nelon,  to  adorn  the  mind  of 
his  pupil,  and  at-  the  same  time  make  him  perceive 
his  faults,  composed  a  series  of  Fables  and  Dia- 
logues. ''We  see,"  says  M.  de  Bausset,  "by  the 
simplicity,  the  precision,  the  clearness,  of  some  of 
these  fables,  that  they  are  suited  to  a  child,  whose 
intellect  should  not  be  wearied,  and  to  whose  mind 
only  that  which  it  can  understand  and  preserve 
should  be  presented.  According  as  the  course  of 
instruction  brought  the  young  prince  to  understand 
their  bearing,  these  fables  assumed  a  more  elevated 
style — they  contained  some  allusions  to  history  and 
mythology."  In  developing  the  intellect  of  his 
pupil,  Fenelon  took  great- care  not  to  crush- htm 
7 


74  THE   CHILD. 

under  a  weight  of  knowledge  too  great  for  his  age ; 
and  yet  he  knew  how,  skilfully,  to  take  advantage  of 
every  means  to  elevate  the  faculties  of  the  child,  and 
suitably  prepare  them  for  the  highest  and  finest 
amount  of  great  literary  information.  This  wise 
temperament  is  very  rare  in  our  days.  On  the  one 
hand,  we  see  some  children  burdened  at  an  early  age 
with  a  heavy  erudition,  on  which  the  science  of 
memory  has  exhausted  the  treasury  of  its  dates  and 
nomenclatures ;  or  condemned  to  read  ridiculous  lit- 
tle moral  tracts,  sometimes  of  a  despairing  dryness, 
sometimes  of  insipid  sentiment,  and  always  of  an 
odious  pedantry,  anything  of  which  they  are  abso- 
lutely incapable  of  understanding  or  feeling.  This 
caused  a  lady  of  great  sense  to  say,  wittily,  ''that 
the  children  brought  up  to  read  Peau-d'Ane,  Prince 
Tity,  and  Bluebeard,  had  more  imagination  and  real 
sense  than  all  those  poor  children  brought  up  to 
read  little  pedantic  tracts."  On  the  other  hand, 
even  among  those  destined  to  receive  the  highest 
literary  education,  how  many  children  remain  with- 
out any  intellectual  culture  until  the  period  of  pri- 
mary instruction  arrives! — all  their  faculties  lie-in 
fallow.  Sometimes  it  takes  many  years  to  draw 
them  out  of  this  sad  state  —  frequently  the  most 
assiduous  cares  are  not  sufficient  to  do  so ;  and  we 
must  consider  ourselves  very  happy  if  we  contrive 
to  render  them  capable  of  learning  anything  at  fif- 
teen or  sixteen.  In  fine,  there  remains  moral  and 
religious  education,  for  which  it  is  the  duty  of  a 
father  and  a  mother,  worthy  of  that  name,  to  devote 
themselves  to  the  child  from  the  first  glimmerings  of 


SOME    ADVICE    ON    HIS    EARLY    EDUCATION.  75 

his  reason  and  understanding.  They  sometimes  say 
that  this  education  is  not  suited  for  his  age,  and 
under  this  pretext,  which  is  a  serious  error,  they  neg- 
lect to  give  the  child,  at  the  precise  time  it  becomes 
possible,  that  culture  which  is  the  most  important, 
and  which  he  is  most  capable  of  receiving.  For 
from  that  time  his  mind  is  at  once  a  soft  wax,  which 
receives  the  impressions  given  to  it,  and  an  active 
faculty  which  begins  to  comprehend  —  from  that 
time  the  propensities  of  the  heart  reveal  themselves ; 
man  takes  his  first  step,  and  declares  himself ;  the 
features  of  his  character  become  delineated ;  the  will 
is  exercised;  the  conscience  formed  —  from  that 
time  the  child  can  acquire  the  first  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil,  the  first  love  of  truth  and  Christian 
virtue.  That  such  is  the  proceeding  of  nature  has 
never  been  disputed.  Why  not  know  how  to  act  con- 
sistently with  it  ?  Why  does  the  labor  of  teachers, 
who  understand  their  task,  too  frequently  consist  of 
combating  and  uprooting  the  gross  faults  contracted 
and  nourished  at  this  age  .-*  And  how  often  do  they 
succeed  in  it  ?  Fenelon  has  given  many  sensible 
warnings  respecting  this  point.  *'  From  this  early 
age,"  he  says,  ''however  little  good  the  nature  of 
children  may  be,  they  can  be  rendered  docile,  pa- 
tient, steady,  gay,  and  peaceable ;  instead  of  which, 
if  they  be  neglected  in  this  early  youth,  they  be- 
come eager  and  restless  all  their  lives ;  their  blood 
burns ;  habits  become  formed ;  the  body,  still  ten- 
der, and  the  mind,  which  has  not  yet  shown  a  pro- 
pensity for  anything,  incline  towards  evil ;  it  forms 
within  them  a  species  of  second  original  sin,  which 


7^  THE    CHILD. 

is  the  source  of  a  thousand  disorders  when  they 
grow  up."  Among  the  admirable  counsels  that 
Fenelon  addresses  to  those  intrusted  with  the  moral 
education  of  early  age,  there  are  two  of  great  im- 
portance which  I  wish  to  point  out  here.  The  first 
relates  to  the  awakening  of  sensibility  at  an  early 
age  in  the  hearts  of  children.  "As  soon  as  a  child 
is  capable  of  feeling  friendship,  the  only  question  is 
that  of  directing  his  affection  towards  persons  who 
may  be  useful  to  him.  Friendship  will  lead  him  to 
do  almost  anything  desired  —  it  is  assuredly  a  tie  to 
draw  him  to  good,  provided  it  is  known  how  to  make 
use  of  it ;  the  only  thing  to  fear  is  an  excess,  or  a 
bad  choice  in  the  object  of  his  affections."  Again 
Fenelon  said,  "  It  is  necessary  to  try,  before  chil- 
dren shall  have  lost  this  first  simplicity  of  the  most 
natural  emotions,  to  make  them  taste  the  pleasure  of 
a  cordial  and  reciprocal  friendship.  Nothing  contrib- 
utes so  much  to  it  as  placing  about  them,  at  first,  per- 
sons who  never  show  them  any  harshness,  falseness, 
meanness,  or  selfishness.  It  would  be  better  to  toler- 
ate near  them  people  having  other  faults,  but  exempt 
from  these.  Again,  it  is  necessary  to  praise  children 
for  everything  they  do  through  friendship,  provided 
it  be  not  out  of  place  or  too  ardent.  It  is  also  neces- 
sary that  their  parents  show  sincere  friendship  to 
them,  for  children  often  learn  even  from  their  par- 
ents not  to  love  anything."  (Fenelon,  "  Educ.  of 
Daughters.")  A  second  counsel  given  by  Fenelon, 
and  one  which  is  also  of  great  importance,  is  to  be- 
ware of  the  mania  and  danger  of  imitation  among 
children.     ''It  is   necessary,"   says  he,   ''to  prevent 


SOME   ADVICE    ON    HIS    EARLY    EDUCATION.  // 

them  from  mimicking  ridiculous  people,  for  these 
mocking  and  dissembling  manners  have  something 
low  and  contrary  to  honest  sentiments  in  them.  We 
may  suppose  that  they  catch  them  up  because  the 
warmth  of  their  imagination,  their  suppleness  of 
body,  joined  with  their  sprightliness,  make  it  easy 
for  them  to  put  on  all  kinds  of  shapes  to  represent 
what  strikes  them  as  ridiculous."  This  tendency  in 
children  produces  innumerable  evils  when  they  are 
intrusted  to  foolish  people,  who  know  not  how  to 
restrain  themselves  before  them.  How  much  benefit 
and  positive  influence  these  wise  ideas,  these  subtle 
and  penetrating  observations,  of  Fenelon  would  have 
on  the  education  of  early  youth,  if  they  were  well 
understood  and  meditated  on !  That  the  impressions 
of  those  early  years,  the  habits  acquired  at  this  age, 
are  the  strongest  and  most  lasting,  is  a  truth  which 
has  never  been  disputed ;  but  one  hardly  ever  be- 
thinks himself  of  the  practical  consequences  to  be 
deduced  from  it.  Hence,  laws  affecting  public 
morals  cannot  be  too  severe  —  laws  imposing  wisdom 
and  circumspection  on  all  those  who  have  access  to 
childhood,  or  who  are  bound  to  give  it  lessons  and 
example.  As  soon  as  childhood  begins  to  think  and 
feel,  its  mind  and  heart  need  a  food  to  nourish  them, 
and  this  food,  whatsoever  it  may  be,  changes  itself 
into  their  substance.  The  ideas,  the  images,  which 
present  themselves  to  the  child,  gradually  form  the 
stamp  of  his  character,  and,  so  to  speak,  the  founda- 
tion of  his  soul.  While  his  senses  and  his  imagina- 
tion are  full  of  what  he  hears  and.  what  he  sees,  he 
prepares  for  himself  in  silence  the  rule  of  his  judg- 


yS  THE    CHILD. 

ments  and  the  motive  of  his  actions;  and  it  is  this 
which  causes  the  prejudices  of  childhood  to  have  so 
incredible  a  strength.  It  is  the  duty  of  domestic 
education  to  choose  with  great  discretion  the  objects 
which  shall  first  strike  the  eye  of  the  child,  attract 
his  attention,  and  on  which  he  will  exercise  the  sen- 
sibility of  his  heart  —  this  is  what  domestic  educa- 
tion ought  to  do,  but  unfortunately  does  not  always 
do  among  us.  We  have  been,  during  too  long  a 
time,  trained  to  despise  everything,  to  profane  every- 
thing, but  still  to  spare  childhood.  We  know  that 
the  degree  of  corruption  in  public  morals  renders  it 
very  difficult  to  preserve  even  decency  in  private 
morals.  Alas !  how  many  children  no  longer  find 
safety  in  the  paternal  household,  where  sometimes 
their  eyes,  their  ears,  all  their  senses,  receive  as 
nourishment  but  a  subtle  and  deadly  poison,  which 
penetrates  into  those  unhappy  beings  without  their 
perceiving  it,  and  destroys  in  their  hearts  even  the 
germs  of  virtue  —  thus  imparing  the  gifts  of  Nature ; 
and  frequently  minds  which  she  has  qualified  for 
great  deeds,  so  degenerate  by  education,  that  it  is 
with  a  great  effort  they  rise  again  from  it !  It  is 
especially  when  there  is  question  of  purity  of  morals 
that  the  education  of  early  youth  should  redouble  its 
zeal,  and  surround  children  with  the  most  careful 
precautions  and  strictest  vigilance.  Fenelon  wished 
that  they  should  absolutely  shun  public  theatres  and 
all  other  exciting  amusements,  which  are  only  suited 
to  give  children  a  taste  for  dangerous  things,  and, 
besides,  never  fail  to  make  them  find  all  innocent 
pleasures  insipid.     He  branded  without  mercy  the 


SOME    ADVICE    ON    HIS    EARLY    EDUCATION.  79 

guilty  imprudence  of  so  many  parents  who  thus  ex- 
posed their  children,  with  hearts  still  so  tender,  and 
imaginations  so  lively  and  so  fickle,  to  the  violent 
shocks  of  theatrical  amusements,  to  the  languishing 
tones  of  that  effeminate  music,  which  serves  but  to 
enervate  the  powers  of  the  mind,  and  render  the 
morals  of  the  child  loose  and  voluptuous,  and  which 
gives  so  much  pleasure  only  because  the  soul  delivers 
itself  up  to  the  allurements  of  the  senses,  almost  to 
intoxication.  Fenelon  went  so  far  as  to  wish  that 
children  should  be  inspired  with  horror  —  it  is  the 
expression  he  uses  —  **  horror  of  those  poisoned 
amusements  and  other  corrupting  vanities,  naked- 
ness of  the  bosom,  and  every  other  immodesty," 
which  people  so  frequently  indulge  in  before  chil- 
dren, or  permit  to  them.  "Nothing,"  said  he,  **can 
justify  in  these  parents,  before  God  or  man,  a  con- 
duct so  rash,  so  scandalous,  and  so  contagious  for 
their  children."  Since  we  cannot,  in  the  state  of 
our  morals,  let  childhood  grow  up  in  ignorance  of 
vice,  it  would  be  desirable  that  we  could  make  a  com- 
pact with  its  newly-born  faculties  to  suspend  their 
progress,  and  retain  them  in  idleness  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, that  they  might  be  developed  without  danger. 
For  minds  entirely  blank,  not  trained,  and  void  of 
everything,  would  be  far  less  removed  from  wisdom 
than  those  who  have  gathered  it  and  carry  with  it 
perfidious  seeds.  Then,  at  least,  the  time  of  the 
second  education  would  not  be  almost  entirely  wasted 
in  combating  with  and  destroying  the  vicious  im- 
pressions made  by  the  first ;  and  a  man  should  not 
be  reduced  to  applauding  himself  as  completely  sue- 


80  THE    CHILD. 

cessful,  when  he  has  only  succeeded  in  curing  the 
evil  already  done.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  be 
said,  and  I  have  witnessed  it,  that  this  first  education 
is  often  very  well  commenced  and  admirably  con- 
ducted in  Christian  families  among  us.  God  has  given 
to  man,  from  the  beginning,  a  natural  teacher,  whom 
no  one  can  replace.  How  many  times  has  not  a 
good  mother,  a  pious  mother,  found,  in  her  own  heart 
and  in  the  inspirations  of  piety,  secrets  of  education 
a  thousand  times  more  efficacious  than  any  pedagogic 
theories!  I  shall  afford  myself  the  consolation  of 
speaking  of  them  in  detail  when  I  come  to  treat  of 
the  rights  and  duties  of  maternal  authority.  At 
present  I  shall  confine  myself  to  saying,  that  the 
cares  of  a  mother  are  necessary  to  a  child,  not  only 
for  the  first  two  or  three  years  of  his  life,  but  far  be- 
yond it.  Above  all,  I  could  never  approve  of  giving 
up  to  public  education  children  of  four  or  five  years, 
to  whom  nothing  can  replace  maternal  care.^  It 
is  for  the  mother  to  arouse  in  her  child  the  first 
glimmerings  of  intelligence,  and  the  first  love  of 
good ;  to  place  upon  his  lips  the  first  words  of  faith 
and  virtue ;  to  turn  his  first  looks  towards  heaven  ; 
in  a  word,  it  is  for  the  mother  to  endow  him 
with  a  Christian  soul,  as  she  has  given  to  him  a 
human  body ;  and  if  there  be  nothing  so  hideous  as 
the  example,  happily  very  rare,  of  a  mother  breath- 
ing irreligion  into  the  heart  of  her  son,  so  also  noth- 
ing is  more  moving  and  beautiful  to  see  than  the 
spectacle  of   a  Christian  mother  giving  to  a    child, 

1  It  can  be  easily  understood  that  I  do  not  here  condemn  the  Salles 
d'Asile,  nor  even  the  Creche. 


SOME   ADVICE    ON    HIS    EARLY   EDUCATION.  Si 

blessed  by  God,  his  first  instruction  in  faith,  re- 
counting to  him  the  touching  histories  of  rehgion, 
teaching  him  to  join  his  Httle  hands  in  prayer,  and 
making  him  Hsp  with  his  infantine  mouth  the  most 
sacred  Name.  Such  ought  to  be  the  first  education 
—  I  more  wiUingly  call  it  maternal  education.  It 
should  be  carried  on  at  the  domestic  hearth,  pro- 
vided the  paternal  household  be  always  for  this  child, 
beginning  life,  a  school  of  purity,  justice,  goodness, 
virtue,  wisdom,  and  mildness  —  that  nothing  comes 
there  to  spoil  his  heart  or  his  mind  during  those 
happy  times,  when  thought,  reason,  speech,  and  con- 
science are  being  primitively  formed  in  him ;  when 
the  first  elements  of  his  whole  intellectual  and  moral 
Jife  are  being  prepared.  In  concluding  this  chapter, 
I  would  wish  to  pledge  my  readers  to  study  Fene- 
lon's  Treatise  on  the  Education  of  Daughters,  be- 
cause it  is  an  incomparable  book.  I  wished  to  give 
some  extracts  from  it,  and  then  L  perceived  I  should 
quote  the  entire  work.  Fenelon  makes  in  it  not 
only  the  education  of  children,  but  especially  that  of 
tutors,  governesses,  and  mothers.  Pastors  and  cate- 
chists,  themselves,  will  find  there  the  most  impor- 
tant, elevated,  and  fruitful  instructions,  particularly 
in  chapters  vi.,  vii.,  and  viii.,  on  the  use  of  history  to 
indoctrinate  into  the  mind  of  the  child  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  religion. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    RESPECT    DUE   TO   THE     DIGNITY    OF   CHILDHOOD 
IS    A    RELIGIOUS    RESPECT. 

If  the  child  appear,  in  the  eyes  of  the  philosopher, 
enlightened  by  faith,  a  being  worthy  of  a  religious 
respect,  it  is  because,  besides  the  graces  and  natural 
prerogatives  of  his  age,  he  finds  something  higher 
and  more  divine  which  should  inspire  this  respect, 
and  elevate  him  almost  to  God  Himself.  God  is 
actually  the  Creator,  the  Father,  the  Model,  of  this 
child.  All  those  artless  graces  on  which  we  rest  our 
eyes  with  so  much  complaisance  are  the  reflections 
of  the  Divine  Grace  itself;  and  if  his  education 
should  ascend  so  high,  and  be  made  with  so  religious 
a  care,  it  is  because,  sublime-  creature,  he  bears,  in 
the  foundation  of  his  nature,  in  the  elevation,  power, 
and  harmony  of  his  faculties,  the  likeness  of  God. 
This  humble  child  is  destined  to  a  double  kingdom. 
If  he  carries  his  crown  worthily  on  earth,  the  king- 
dom of  Heaven  will  one  day  be  opened  to  him ;  and 
if  we  sometimes  give  him  the  name  of  angel,  though 
abased  beneath  them  here  on  earth,  it  is  because 
God  has  lavished  on  him,  as  on  the  angels,  life,  intel- 
ligence, and  love^  and  with  this  celestial  nature  all 
the  faculties^  all  the  gifts,  all  the  wonderful  attributes, 

which  flow  from  it. 
82 


r 


RESPECT  DUE  THE    DIGNITY  OF   CHILDHOOD.  83 


Let  US  make  man  to  our  image  and  our  likeness  :" 
these  admirable  words,  says  Bossuet,  "  reveal  to  us, 
that,  in  creating  man,  God  proposed  no  other  model 
but  Himself,"  and  that  He  wished  to  make  the  fea- 
tures of  His  perfection  and  His  glory  shine  forth 
magnificently  in  the  human  creature.  I  do  not  wish 
to  dilate  further  than  is  suitable  on  this  mysterious 
subject;  at  the  same  time,  I  cannot  but  remark  what 
a  surprising  trinity  is  to  be  met  with  in  the  unity  of 
a  created  and  imperfect  nature,  and  how  lively  an 
image  and  surprising  a  likeness  of  the  most  high 
God  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  in  it.  God  is  life,  intelli- 
gence, unbounded  love.  God  is  truth,  beauty,  supreme 
goodness.  Well,  it  has  pleased  this  God  that  these 
constitutive  perfections  of  His  own  essence  should 
be  the  foundation  even  of  being  in  this  weak  child. 
God  has  wished  that  the  highest  powers  of  His 
divine  nature  should  be  reflected  in  the  dawning  fac- 
ulties of  this  being  so  lowly.  This  child,  then,  lives, 
thinks,  loves,  as  God  lives,  thinks,  and  loves.  The 
true,  the  beautiful,  the  good,  should  be  the  essential 
and  only  object  of  intellectual  and  moral  instruction 
in  his  education.  And  it  is  in  the  perfect  accord  of 
the  great  human  faculties  with  the  true,  the  beauti- 
ful, and  the  good,  with  the  truth,  beauty,  and  supreme 
goodness,  that  the  principle  of  harmony,  repose,  plen- 
itude, and  power  of  these  faculties  will  be  found. 
Such  is  the  work  of  education.  This  sublime  theory 
of  the  faculties  of  man,  which  at  present  I  confine 
myself  to  indicating,  and  which  further  on  I  will 
explain,  is  but  the  principle  and  foundation  of  the 
theory   of    education  itself.     This  theory  rules  the 


84  THE    CHILD. 

development  and  exercise  of  the  human  faculties; 
it  reveals  the  play,  nature,  and  action  of  them  in  the 
grown  man  as  in  the  child;  and,  at  the  same  time,  it 
is  it  alone  which  enlightens  the  science,  languages, 
literatures,  poetry,  and  arts  which  are  taught  to  him. 
In  all  these  faculties  God  at  first  entirely  appears ; 
'His  name.  His  splendor,  burst  forth  from  all  sides, 
and  cause  to  glitter  like  the  light  of  a  divine  day  all 
-the  beauties  of  human  nature,  and  all  the  riches  with 
which  God  has  endowed  it.  The  Divine  perfection,  to 
the  image  of  which  this  child  was  created,  is  then  the 
end,  the  model,  the  image,  the  essential  type,  of  the  ed- 
ucation which  he  should  receive.  "  Let  us  make  man 
to  our  image  and  likeness:"  the  word  of  God  could 
not  be  more  decisive.  It  is  thus  that  God  becomes 
for  this  child  at  once  the  perfection  of  his  being,  the 
immortal  nourishment  of  his  intellect,  the  inspiration 
of  his  love,  and  the  entire  life  of  his  soul.  This 
should  explain  why  I  have  said  that  education  was  a 
divine  work,  and  that  the  respect  due  to  the  nature 
and  dignity  of  this  child  was  a  religious  respect,  and 
should  elevate  him  almost  to  God.  But  what  it  is  also 
necessary  to  understand  here,  is,  that  this  fine  and 
great  nature,  that  all  these  gifts  of  the  Creator,  re- 
quire germination  and  growth,  and  of  themselves 
solicit  development  and  the  culture  of  this  religious  re- 
spect. Life,  intelligence,  and  love,  wit,  talent,  genius, 
good  sense,  good  taste,  will,  character,  conscience, 
letters,  sciences,  arts,  even  industry,  religion,  moral- 
ity, truth,  virtue, — ^all  these  great  and  divine  gifts  of 
humanity  are  without  light  and  without  name  in  a 
child,  and  will  remain  buried   in  -the  depths  of   bis 


RESPECT   DUE    THE  DIGNITY  OF    CHILDHOOD.  85 

nature,  if  care  be  not  taken  to  study  them  with 
respect,  and  cultivate  them  reUgiously.  There  is 
the  beautiful  work  of  education  ;  but  once  more,  a 
respectful  education  only  can  satisfy  such  noble 
claims,  and  correspond  to  their  sublime  instincts. 
A  devotion,  a  respect,  truly,  sincerely  rehgious,  alone 
can  suitably  cultivate  the  wonderful  gifts  of  the 
Creator,  elevate  these  fine  faculties  to  the  strength  of 
their  natural  integrity  and  establish  them  in  the 
power  and  plenitude  of  their  action,  adorn  them  with 
their  finest  growth,  and  at  length  crown  them  with 
the  flowers  and  fruits  of  science  and  virtue.  And 
behold  why  education,  such  as  I  conceive  it  ought  to 
be,  is  but  the  most  profound  evidence  .of  the  respect 
of  which  human  nature  is  worthy.  High  as  this 
theory  may  appear,  it  is  the  foundation  on  which  the 
edifice  of  the  entire  education  rests  and  should  be 
raised.  Ah!  without  doubt,  this  work  is  not  easy; 
it  has  vast  proportions,  and,  in  its  apparent  simpli- 
city, offers  numerous  and  imposing  aspects;  and 
every  time  that  one  does  not  apply  himself  to  com- 
prehend, undertake,  and  do  it  in  all  its  magnitude, 
he  is  wanting  in  respect  for  it.  Yes,  every  time  that 
one  does  not  devote  himself  to  cultivate  religiously, 
and  elevate  nature  and  human  dignity  in  the  child ; 
every  time  that  he  neglects  to  form  in  him  man  such 
as  God  has  conceived  him,  man  such  as  God  has 
created  him,  man  such  as  God  wishes  he  should  be 
formed  and  completed ;  every  time  that  he  does  not 
this,  he  betrays,  he  violates,  the  respect  which  is  due 
to  this  child  and  his  original  greatness  ;  and,  I  ought 
to   add,  such    misfortune   is  not  rare.     Teachers  of 


S6  THE   CHILD. 

youth  should  never  forget  that  the  child  is  man 
himself,  the  depositary  of  all  the  gifts  of  God,  all 
the  hopes  of  humanity ;  and,  young  though  he  be, 
he  is  already  invested  with  all  the  grace,  all  the 
dignity,  which  God  has  communicated  to  human 
nature.  The  remembrance  of  this  will  suffice  to  sus- 
tain the  courage  of  teachers,  and  prevent  them  from 
failing  in  the  noble  and -laborious  task  to  which  they 
have  devoted  themselves.  Certainly,  when  the  Crea- 
tor wished  to  make  man,  He  did  not  labor  negligently 
or  disdainfully  at  this  great  work ;  it  was  not  a  play 
for  Him,  as  the  creation  of  the  material  world  had 
been.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  God  no  longer 
makes  use  of  this  brief  and  imperious  word,  with 
which  he  caused  to  come  out  of  the  eternally  sterile 
bowels  of  nothing  the  multitude  of  common  crea- 
tures which  charm  our  eyes,  including  amongst  them 
light  and  the  sun.  No ;  He  meditated  within  Him- 
self, pronounced  a  word  of  advice,  and,  if  I  may  say 
it,  of  respect  —  this  great  and  immortal  word,  *'  Let 
us  make  man  to  our  image  and  likeness."  He  then 
acted  with  the  gravity  worthy  of  so  solemn  a  work. 
The  creation  of  man  was,  above  all,  the  result  of  a 
supreme  deliberation,  an  action  entirely  divine,  and, 
in  fine,  a  breath,  an  inspiration  of  eternal  life,  spiracu- 
lum  vitce.  Such  was  the  greatness  of  the  creation 
of  man ;  such  ought  to  be  the  work,  the  gravity,  the 
greatness,  of  his  education ;  such  the  respect  which 
is  due  to  him.  Behold  what  is  the  chief  point  to  be 
well  understood  when  one  takes  up  this  labor.  I 
shall  now  enter  into  some  practical  details.  The  end 
of  education  is  to  form  man;    but  what  does  this 


RESPECT  DUE  THE    DIGNITY    OF  CHILDHOOD.         8/ 

mean,  and  what  is  the  real  task  of  the  teacher? 
Here  it  is.  Man  has,  at  the  same  time,  body  and 
soul,  understanding,  will,  heart,  and  conscience :  God 
has  made  him  so. 

To  form  man  is,  then,  to  make  the  child  attain  all 
the  development,  all  the  elevation,  all  the  strength, 
all  the  beauty,  of  which  his  physical  and  intellectual, 
moral  and  religious,  faculties  are  susceptible.  It  is 
to  give  to  his  body  the  vigor,  the  pliancy,  the  agility, 
necessary  for  the  good  service  of  the  soul ;  but  that, 
be  it  understood,  is  still  but  a  trifle.  The  pagans 
themselves  found  that  man  is  a  noble  spectacle  only 
when  the  beauty  and  strength  of  the  soul  are  in  har- 
mony with  the  beauty  and  strength  of  the  body.^ 
Gratior  et  pidchro  venieiis  in  corpore  virtus  (Virgile). 
Mens  Sana  in  corpore  sano  (Juvenal). 

Again,  to  form  man  is  especially  to  give  to  his 
mind  all  the  fine  knowledge,  reveal  to  him  all  the 
noble  doctrine,  which  will  be  the  ornament  and  light 
of  his  life ;  it  is  to  make  him  acquire  all  his  strength 
and  all  his  capacity  by  suitable  exercises  and  intel- 
lectual labor;  it  is  to  develop  in  him  judgment,  rea- 
soning, taste,  penetration,  memory,  imagination, 
facility  of  elocution ;  in  a  word,  thought  and  speech, 
those  two  great  prerogatives  of  humanity.  To  form 
man,  as  God  requires  him,  is  at  the  same  time  to 
strengthen  his  character,  confirm  his  will,  enlighten 
his  conscience,  and  inspire  in  his  heart  a  generous 
sensibility.  It  is  to  place  and  nourish  in  his  soul 
every  virtuous  inclination  which  will  induce  him  to 
fulfil  the  law  of  duty  towards  his  Creator,  towards 

^  Plato.  Repub.  book  iii.  chap.  ix. 


S8  THE    CHILD. 

himself,  society,  and  all  his  kind.  Without  doubt, 
all  this  is  a  great  deal,  but  it  is  not  yet  all;  if  we 
stopped  there,  the  work  would  be  imperfect,  or  rather 
it  would  be  little  short  of  utter  ruin.  We  have  al- 
ready seen  that  man  has  numerous  deplorable  faults  ; 
he  is  fortunate  when  they  are  but  defects  of  his  good 
dispositions.  In  a  good  education  these  dispositions 
are  strengthened  by  the  defects  themselves,  which 
they  absorb,  and  over  which  they  gradually  triumph ; 
thus  in  the  end,  and  thanks  to  the  struggle,  becom- 
ing virtues.  On  the  contrary,  in  a  bad  education 
these  defects  carry  away  and  crush  the  good  disposi- 
tions, and  become  vices.  What,  then,  is  the  great, 
and  frequently  the  most  painful,  labor  of  the  teacher .? 
.It  is  this.  If  he  wish,  as  he  ought  to  wish,  to  estab- 
lish the  child  in  the  legitimate  and  entire  possession 
of  the  faculties  of  his  nature,  if  he  wish  to  make 
him  a  man  by  that  means,  and  a  man  worthy  of  the 
name,  he  will  not  confine  himself  to  increasing  in 
the  heart  of  this  child  every  inclination  to  duty,  and 
developing  his  good  dispositions ;  he  will  diligently 
apply  himself  to  study  his  defects,  root  out  his  dan- 
gerous tendencies,  reform  his  bad  habits,  and  correct 
his  vices,  if  unfortunately  they  are  already  to  be 
found  in  this  young  creature ;  he  will  anticipate,  if 
he  can,  the  awakening  of  the  passions,  or  at  least 
control  them  strongly  and  wisely  at  the  proper  time. 
It  is  at  this  price  only  the  work  can  be  accomplished  ; 
and  for  this  reason  I  have  said  that  education  is  es- 
sentially a  work  of  respect.  I  do  not  know  anything 
which  requires  more  respectful  devotedness  .than  this 
painful  labor.     Without  the  thought  of  God,  without 


RESPECT  DUE  THE    DIGNITY    OF  CHILDHOOD.         89 

a  religious  respect  for  human  nature,  one  could  never 
sincerely  and  courageously  labor  to  correct,  reform, 
and  elevate  it.  I  recapitulate  all  this:  education 
ought  to  mould  man,  make  of  the  child  a  man,  that  is 
to  say,  give  him  a  strong  and  healthy,  body,  a  trained 
and  penetrating  mind,  an  upright  and  sound  reason, 
a  fertile  imagination,  a  sensible  and  pure  heart,  and 
all  that,  m  the  highest  degree,  of  which  the  child  is 
susceptible.  Such  is  its  work;  such  are  its  benefits; 
such  the  high  and  vast  idea  which  ought  to  preside 
over  every  step  of  human  education,  maternal  educa- 
tion, primary  education,  secondary  education.  Edu- 
cation never  leaves  man  till  it  institutes  him  in  life, 
and  institutes  him  as  man  complete.  It  is  then, 
from  this  high  point  of  view,  conforniably  with  that 
beautiful  Latin  expression  which  Quintilian  and  Bos- 
suet  make  use  of,  that  education  may  be  called  the 
institution  of  man.  It  is  then  is  accomplished  the 
work  of  religious  respect  due  to  the  noble  creature  of 
God»  But,  they  will  say  to  me,  is  it  always  neces- 
sary to  elevate  it  so  high?  May  we  not  do  less  .'* 
Where,  then,  are  the  teachers  worthy  of  the  name  .'^ 
I  am  not  charged  with  resolving  this  last  question ; 
but  I  answer  without  hesitation,  No ;  we  may  not 
do  less.  Education,  under  pain  of  being  incomplete, 
of  leaving  man  unfinished,  and,  consequently,  pro- 
foundly wanting  in  the  dignity  of  this  beautiful  na- 
ture, should  make  of  the  child  a  man  in  all  his  integ- 
rity. It  should  put  him  fully  in  possession  of  him- 
self; it  should,  consequently,  develop,  polish,  elevate, 
all  his  noble  faculties  as  completely  as  it  is  possible 
to  do  it;  it  cannot  neglect  any  of  them.  Other- 
8* 


90  THE    CHILD. 

wise  it  is  an  imperfect  work ;  it  is  a  bad  education ; 
it  is  a  miserable  work;  and  when  it  is  considered 
that  this  work  is  man  himself,  of  whom  God  has 
said,  **  Let  us  make  him  to  our  image  and  likeness," 
one  is  tempted  to  ask  those  unworthy  teachers 
by  what  right  they  bring  a  rash  hand  over  the 
work  and  the  image  of  God,  to  disfigure  it ;  over 
such  beautiful  and  such  pure  hopes,  to  wither  them ; 
over  such  high  faculties,  to  ruin  them.  We  are 
justly  surprised  at  this  guilty  negligence,  this 
haughty  disdain,  from  which  education  so  frequently 
suffers.  In  fine,  we  are  deeply  irritated  with  this 
sacrilegious  contempt,  and,  I  will  say,  all  these  mer- 
cenary, hypocritical  cares,  of  which  childhood  is  so 
frequently  the  object  and  the  victim.  I  like  to  think 
that  this  evil  arises  more  usually  from  want  of  intelli- 
gence and  reflection ;  they  do  not  know,  and,  let  us 
acknowledge,  they  do  not  attach  sufficient  impor- 
tance to  knowing,  what  this  great  work  of  education 
is.  It  is  true,  they  do  not  dispute  the  radical  neces- 
sity of  it  for  all,  nor  the  immense  influence  it  has  on 
the  individual,  on  the  family,  on  all  society;  they  do 
not  even  refuse  to  recognize  that  its  end  is  to  mould, 
to  elevate,  and  make  man  perfect ;  but  that  of  which 
they  are  ignorant,  or  know  but  partly,  is,  that  to 
attain  this  end,  the  essential,  proper  character  of 
education,  is  to  cultivate  religiously,  develop  and 
strengthen,  all  the  faculties  of  man,  without  any  un- 
worthy exception.  They  do  not  understand  that  hu- 
man education  ought  to  be  like  man  himself,  whom 
it  seeks  to  form,  simple,  uniform,  constant,  complete. 
Man  actually  has  received  nothing  from  God  that 


RESPECT   DUE   THE    DIGNITY    OF  CHILDHOOD.         9I 

education  can  neglect ;  he  is  a  being  worthy  of  ele- 
vation on  every  account.  The  integrity  of  his  ed- 
ucation is  the  providential  law  of  his  life  and  his 
future.  It  cannot  be  knowingly  or  negligently  frus- 
trated without  betraying  him  in  the  most  guilty 
manner ;  and,  nevertheless,  they  hardly  ever  inquire 
for  the  instruments  or  the  means  which  education 
can  and  ought  to  make  use  of  to  exercise  its  great 
action  and  accomplish  its  entire  work  with  respect. 
Hence  so  many  deplorable  educations,  which  are,  at 
the  same  time,  the  misfortune  of  the  pupils  and  the 
shame  of  the  teachers. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  HUMAN  NATURE  IN  THE  CHILD  ;  ON  HIS  DEFECTS  ; 
NECESSITY  OF  KNOWING  THEM  WELL,  AND  COR- 
RECTING  THEM    IN    HIM. 


It  is  necessary  to  return  to  the  child,  and  cast  a 
supreme  and  profound  look  into  his  soul,  and  even 
into  the  greatest  recesses  and  inmost  depths  of  his 
nature ;  for  it  is  there  that  the  work  of  education  is 
really  to  be  done ;  it  is  there  that  the  obstacles  as 
well  as  the  resources  lie :  it  is  there  that  every  effort 
should  be  brought  to  bear.  Hoc  opus,  hie  labor  est. 
But  it  should  be  well  understood  that  a  soul,  the 
nature  of  a  child,  is  quite  a  world ;  we  may  say,  in 
the  words  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  it  is  an  abyss 
{Abysstcm  es  eor — Ecclus.  xlii.  i8)  which  can  never 
sufficiently  be  explored  and  enlightened.  And  the 
Scriptures  add  of  this  heart  of  man,  that  it  is  at 
once  inscrutable  and  bad,  Cor  pravuni  et  inseriUa- 
bile.  (Jerem.  xvii.  9.)  Inscrutable  as  the  heights  of 
heaven  and  the  depths  of  earth,  SictU  eoeluin  sursiim 
et  terra  deorsuni.  (Prov.  xxv.  3.)  And,  nevertheless, 
if  one  has  not  scrutinized  this  abyss,  if  one  has  not 
fathomed  this  heart  in  every  way,  he  is  unsuited  to 
the  great  work  of  education ;  for,  once  again,  it  is  not 
92 


ON    HUMAN    NATURE    IN    THE    CHILD,    ETC.  93 

on  the  surface,  but  in  the  interior  of  the  soul,  that  this 
work  is  to  be  done.  It  must  be  an  every-day  labor 
and  study ;  and,  willingly  applying  to  this  knowledge 
of  children  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  I  will  say  to  mas- 
ters, HcBc  inedita7^e  in  his  esto,  insta  in  illis.  The 
heart  of  the  child  is  the  book  which  must  be  pon- 
dered on  and  searched  into  unceasingly ;  it  is  a 
never-ending  study ;  there  will  always  be  something 
to  discover  in  it,  and  you  will  be  suited  to  your  work 
only  in  proportion  as  you  become  clever  in  reading 
this  living  book  and  fathoming  all  its  secrets.  The 
interior  radical  obstacle  springs  up  again  unceas- 
ingly ;  it  is  the  foundation  even  of  human  nature 
which  is  spoiled ;  these  are  the  defects  and  vices, 
the  fatal  germs  of  which  are  in  us,  as  a  consequence 
of  original  perversion.  Plato  has  said,  "The  new- 
born child  is  not  good ;  but  he  may  become  so  if  he 
be  well  brought  up."  Certainly  not;  the  new-born 
child  is  not  good.  The  evil  germs  are  within,  and 
wait  but  age  to  blow.  It  is  with  these  evil  germs, 
and  sometimes  with  the  most  vicious  inclinations, 
in  a  word,  it  is  with  the  profound  defects  of  this 
nature,  that  the  struggle  must  be  carried  on,  but 
with  the  aid  of  means  for  education  far  superior  to 
all  those  that  Plato  ever  knew.  It  has  been  said 
that  the  human  soul  is,  in  the  child,  a  blank  tablet, 
where  nothing  has  yet  been  written :  it  may  be  so, 
though  there  is  much  to  be  said  thereon ;  but  at 
least  it  has  certainly  already  its  virtualities,  all  its 
powers  ;  and  if  it  be  fertile  for  good,  unfortunately  it 
has  also  an  undoubted  fecundity  for  evil.  The  mal- 
adies from  which  the  human  soul  suffers,  and  conscr 


,94  THE    CHILD. 

quently  the  education  of  the  child,  are  as  innumerable 
as  those  from  which  physical  life  and  health  suffer : 
education,  the  physician  of  the  soul,  whose  mission 
is  the  cure  of  these  ills,  should,  like  the  physician  of 
the  body,  begin  by  studying  them  well,  so  as  to  know 
them.  well.  In  this  soul  there  is  not  only  evil,  but 
there  is  good ;  there  are  not  only  defects,  but  there 
are  good  dispositions ;  education,  at  the  same  time 
that  it  corrects  the  faults  and  cures  the  evil,  should 
also  develop  and  elevate  the  good  dispositions,  and, 
as  St.  Paul  says,  **  conquer  the  evil  through  the 
good."  For  this  there  must  be  not  only  great  zeal, 
but  great  discernment,  and  the  emmployent  of  seri- 
ous remedies,  without  which  the  ills  of  humanity  can 
never  be  cured. 


In  one  of  those  admirable  parables,  of  a  divine 
simplicity,  by  which  our  Lord  formerly  instructed 
his  disciples,  the  parable  of  the  cockle  and  the  good 
grain,  there  is  a  striking  image  of  that  which  is  the 
great  rock  of  education,  and  also  the  great  duty  of 
the  teacher.  Without  doubt,  this  parable  may  be 
applied  in  all  its  details,  and,  above  all,  to  the  mixture 
of  the  good  and  the  wicked  on  earth  ;  but  we  may 
likewise,  in  some  manner,  usefully  and  truly  apply 
it  to  the  mixture  of  good  and  evil  dispositions  which 
are  to  be  found  in  children  and  every  human  crea- 
ture. God  —  and  this  is  especially  true  with  respect 
to  children  brought  up  in  a  house  of  Christian  edu- 
cation—  God  has  abundantly  sown  in  these  children 


ON    HUMAN    NATURE    IN    THE    CHILD,    ETC.  95 

the  good  grain ;  at  first,  through  the  good  incUna:- 
tions  which  he  has  given  them  at  their  birth,  then  by 
Baptism  and  the  other  sacraments,  and  by  all  the 
early  graces  of  a  good  education.  There  is  »o  na- 
ture, however  sterile  or  disagreeable  it  may  appear, 
which  has  not  its  rich  depths  of  valuable  qualities, 
which  education  should  cultivate  and  develop ;  but 
there  is  likewise  in  the  nature  of  every  child,  not 
excepting  the  most  amiable,  side  by  side  with  the 
good  qualities,  all  that  multiplying  family  of  numer- 
ous faults,  all  those  vicious  germs,  of  which  we 
have  spoken,  and  which  are,  according  to  the  evan- 
gelical parable,  the  cockle  among  the  good  grain  : 
the  enemy  has  come  during  a  fatal  night,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  good  seed  has  cast  the  bad,  and  with- 
drawn himself:  super  semitiavit  zizania,  et  abiit. 
Then,  when  the  seed  grows,  the  cockle  suddenly  ap- 
pears in  the  midst  of  the  good  plants,  showing  itself 
like  a  dead,  drooping  grass,  like  noxious  weeds. 

What  happens  then  }  The  servants  of  the  father 
of  the  family  are  quite  surprised  :  they  ought  not  to 
be  so;  for,  since  the  original  fall,  this  mixture  is 
natural,  inevitable,  and  should  be  expected ;  but  per- 
sons are  deceived  so  easily !  indignation  soon  suc- 
ceeds surprise  :  they  wish  —  and  on  the  moment,  as 
the  Gospel  says  —  to  tear  up  this  fruit  of  maledic- 
tion :  vis  colligitnus  ea  ?  That  is  to  say  —  no  longer 
to  use  a  figure  of  speech  otherwise  so  clear  —  par- 
ents, or  the  directors  of  a  house  of  Christian  educa- 
tion, after  having  been  ministers  and  witnesses  of 
the  most  abundant  favors  from  God,  recognize  with 
terror,  that,  parallel   with  their  work,  another  work 


96  -  ^THE    CHIiBv 

has  been  done  — -  and  that,  in  souls  where  grac-e  had 
been  profusely  shed,  unexpected  faults  and  vices 
have  silently  sprung  up,  which  compromise  all  their 
labor.  Alas !  they  do  not  easily  consent  to  ac- 
knowledge that  it  is  sometimes  during  their  sleep 
that  the  evil  has  been  done,  and  that  they  have  not 
always,  perhaps,  been  sufficiently  watchful :  Ditfu 
dormirent  homines  !  Then  one  of  two  things  comes 
to  pass :  either  they  delude  themselves  as  to  the  evil 
which  they  feel  they  have  not  the  courage  to  strive 
against  —  each  takes  his  part,  and  again  enters  into 
his  sleep ;  or  they  become  transported,  and  would 
wish  without  delay  to  ravage  the  whole  field,  in  order 
to  tear  up  with  one  stroke  all  this  cockle,  that  it  may 
no  longer  trouble  them,  and  that  they  may  take  their 
repose  again.  But,  in  the  culture  of  souls,  it  does 
not  suit  to  act  thus  ;  this  headstrong  zeal  is  not  true 
zeal.  Like  the  servants  in  the  Gospel,  they  must 
have  recourse  to  the  wisdom  of  the  Master  of  the 
harvest,  and  recollect  the  answer  given  by  the  father 
of  the  family  to  the  laborers,  who  knew  not  how  to 
repair  the  evil  caused  by  their  sleep  but  by  the  fire 
of  a  passing  and  destructive  zeal :  Vis  imus  et  col- 
ligimtis  ca  ?  said  they.  No,  he  replied  to  them  :  Ne 
forte  colligentes  zizania,  eradicetis  siniiil  cum  eis  et 
Uiticiim.  This  answer  is  profoundly  divine.  As- 
suredly, there  is  no  question  of  allowing  to  subsist 
in  souls  the  faults  which  spring  up  in  them.  The 
necessity  of  extirpating  the  bad  seed  is  manifestly  to 
be  deduced  from  these  terrible  words  of  the  father  of 
the  family :  "■  At  the  time  of  the  harvest  I  will  say  to 
the  reapers,  Gather  first  the  bad  grass,  and  tie  it  in 


ON    HUMAN    NATURE    IN    THE    CHILD,    ETC.  Q/ 

sheaves,  to  cast  it  into  the  fire."  The  salvation  of 
the  souls  in  which  this  impure  germs  displays  itself 
manifestly  depends  on  the  extirpation  of  their  de- 
fects ;  but  great  prudence  and  most  careful  precau- 
tion must  be  used,  in  order  not  to  tear  up  the  wheat 
at  the  same  time  with  the  cockle.  If  the  evil  germs 
be  not  destroyed  in  good  tirne,  when  the  last  harvest 
arrives  all  will  be  lost.  But  in  this  first  harvest  of 
souls,  cultivated  by  education,  great  care  is  neces- 
sary not  to  extirpate  the  good  dispositions  with  the 
bad;  they  sometimes  touch  so  closely;  and,  if  one  be 
not  very  attentive,  there  is  great  danger  of  taking 
one  for  the  other ;  for  this  work  of  discernment  and 
enlightened  extirpation,  it  is  necessary  to  study  well 
the  depths  of  human  nature,  that  is  to  say,  to  know 
the  defects  that  shoot  from  the  bottom  of  the  heart, 
and  may  stifle  there  the  grace  planted  by  God :  it  is 
necessary  to  know  them,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to 
know  their  remedies.  It  is  also  necessary  to  study 
well  the  good  inclinations  of  nature,  and  that  which 
may  be  drawn  from  them.  In  a  word,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  recognize  the  distinct  nature  of  good  and 
evil ;  of  the  good  and  evil  germs,  their  different 
roots,  their  numerous  ramifications.  And  this  is 
what  impetuous  zeal,  false  zeal,  can  rarely  decide. 
This  zeal  is  almost  always  as  indolent  as  passionate. 
It  knows  only  how  to  repose  in  a  deplorable  sleep,  or 
to  wake  up  abruptly,  tear  up  all,  overturn  all,  and 
destroy  everything  in  a  soul.  True  zeal  has  another 
spirit,  another  mode  of  action.  It  is  to  it  that  the 
instructions  we  are  about  to  read  are  addressed. 
9 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TWO  IMPORTANT  OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  SAME  SUBJECT. 


Youth  is  the  proper  time  for  the  correction  of 
faults.  Whatever  evil  germs  may  be  hidden  in  the 
soul  of  the  child,  thanks  to  God,  they  never  render 
his  education  impossible.  It  is  written  that  God 
has  made  man  curable :  sanabiles  fecit.  Education 
—  a  Christian  education  —  is  singularly  powerful, 
and  frequently  works  miracles ;  it  is  the  glory,  nay, 
the  triumph,  of  education,  to  struggle  with  a  difficult 
nature,  conquer,  correct,  and  transform  it.  But  the 
chief  point  in  this  work  is  to  begin  in  good  time  ; 
otherwise  it  is  soon  compromised,  not  to  say  impos- 
sible. In  childhood  and  youth  the  faults  have  not 
yet  struck  deep  roots,  nor  acquired  rapid  growth. 
All  is  still  tender  and  weak.  Later  on,  habit  will 
become  —  and  habit  soon  becomes  —  second  na- 
ture, the  resistances  of  which  are  terrible.  The 
story  of  the  solitary  of  the  Thebaid  and  his  palm- 
tree  is  known  ;  but  it  may  be  useful  to  bring  it  again 
under  the  notice  of  parents  and  masters  :  —  Wishing 
to  make  a  young  man  understand  the  importance  of 
beginning  in  good  time  to  correct  his  faults,  he 
showed  him  a  vigorous  palm-tree,  which,  during  many 
98 


ON    HUMAN    NATURE    IN    THE    CHILD,    ETC.  99 

years,  spread  its  shade  around;  he  ordered  him  to 
tear  up  this  old  inhabitant  of  the  desert ;  but  when, 
after  unheard-of  exertions,  the  young  man  could  not 
even  succeed  in  loosening  it,  the  solitary  pointed  out 
to  him  another  tree,  newly  planted,  and  told  him  to 
try  his  strength  against  it.  A  few  efforts  sufficed  to 
throw  the  young  palm-tree  on  the  ground.  It  is  thus 
that,  in  youth,  faults  easily  yield  to  the  pressure  of 
good  will;  whilst,  later  on,  strengthened,  hardened 
by  age,  they  become  like  another  nature,  and  fre- 
quently can  only  be  rooted  out  with  terrible  diffi- 
culty :  for  this  reason,  a  man,  venerable  by  his  expe- 
rience, his  wisdom,  and  his  virtues,  as  well  as  his 
great  age,  said,  in  speaking  of  the  education  of  the 
Petits  Seminaires,  that  it  nearly  always  decided 
everything,  whether  good  or  evil,  for  the  entire  life. 
This  is  true.  I  have  already  discoursed  at  great 
length  on  this  particular  point.  I  will  add  but  a  sin- 
gle word.  The  correction  of  the  faults  of  children 
should  not  be  reserved  till  the  period  of  their  public 
education :  it  is  in  the  family  itself,  and  as  soon  as 
they  begin  to  display  themselves,  they  should  be 
recognized,  combated,  and  extirpated,  if  such  can 
be  done.  It  is  true,  there  are  some  faults  which  ap- 
pear later  on,  when  certain  circumstances  provoke 
their  appearance ;  but  nearly  all  manifest  themselves 
during  the  tenderest  years,  in  the  spontaneity  of 
this  first  blossoming  of  childhood.  Well,  it  is  then 
our  eyes  should  be  open  and  always  watchful  to 
everything  which  indicates,  everything  which  re-  ^ 
veals,  a  hidden  fault.  Are  parents  usually  solicitous 
to  do   this  .'*     So  far  from   seeking  to  discover   the 


lOO  THE    CHILD. 

faults  of  their  children,  will  parents  consent  even  to 
recognize  them  when  pointed  out  to  them  ?  Oh ! 
they  are  extremely  clear-sighted  with  respect  to  all 
the  amiabilities  of  these  dear  children ;  they  know 
very  well  how  to  see  in  them  what  they  have,  and 
even  what  they  have  not ;  but  as  to  faults,  it  is  an- 
other thing ;  they  are  blind  to  them  :  paternal  and 
maternal  tenderness  places  a  veil  over  their  eyes. 
This  blindness,  more  or  less  voluntary  on  the  part  of 
parents,  is  one  of  the  greatest  miseries  of  early  edu- 
cation ;  and  their  weakness  in  correcting  these  faults 
when  at  length  they  burst  forth,  their  impotence  in 
arming  themselves  with  a  salutary  rigor  to  set  right 
these  natures,  more  or  less  spoiled  by  flattery  or  effem- 
inate complaisance,  are  not  less  fatal.  Is  not  this 
what  too  frequently  occurs  in  the  effeminacy  and  ener- 
vation of  the  morals  of  our  time  ?  The  ancient  sever- 
ity of  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  families  is  very  rare 
to-day :  they  begin  by  adulating  the  child,  looking  on 
him  as  a  little  perfection  ;  then,  when  this  pretended 
perfection  at  last  appears  what  it  is,  absolutely  insup- 
portable, they  free  themselves  of  it.  After  having 
treated  the  child  as  a  graceful  idol,  and  being  amused 
with  him  during  his  first  years,  when  the  burden  of 
paternity  is  less  heavy,  or  the  enjoyment  of  it  more 
lively,  when  the  burden  weighs  upon  them,  when 
the  caprices  of  the  idol  are  a  little  less  easy  to  sat- 
isfy, they  send  the  idol  to  school.  They  reserve  to 
themselves  seeing  him  again  on  certain  appointed 
days,  amusing  him,  being  amused  by  him,  but  so  as 
not  to  keep  him  too  long,  and  to  place,  before  diffi- 


ON    HUMAN    NATURE    IN    THE    CHILD,    ETC.         lOI 

culties  shall  have  had  time  to  arise  again,  the  grates 
of  the  college  between  him  and  them."  ^ 

Certainly,  by  this  time  the  evil  is  already  great, 
and  the  education  of  the  child  much  compromised ; 
at  the  same  time,  nothing  is  yet  to  be  despaired  of. 
A  child  at  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age  may  have 
deplorable  habits,  but  they  are  not  inveterate.  The 
life  of  a  good  house  of  education  may  suddenly 
break  them  off,  and,  as  it  were,  open  a  new  era; 
rule,  study,  piety,  may  happily  take  the  place  of 
whim,  caprice,  of  indolent  labor;  but  it  is  time, 
without  further  delay,  to  seize  the  child  vigorously, 
and  take  up  energetically,  and  from  the  ground-work, 
the  education  so  deplorably  commenced.  I  repeat 
it,  the  great  duty  of  the  teacher,  his  noblest  and 
most  laborious  mission,  is  to  be  met  with  here  —  Hoc 
optcSy  hie  labor  est, 

II. 

//  is  not  sufficient  to  know  the  defects  of  children  well ; 
it  is  necessary  to  make  them  know  them. 

Thus,  then,  it  is  a  work  of  profound  correction 
and  extirpation  that  there  is  question  of  doing ;  del- 
icate, courageous,  persevering,  and  indispensable 
work.  Without  this  work,  we  might  give  a  varnish 
of  politeness  to  the  surface,  and  gild  the  outside ;  but 

1  M.  de  Champagny,  from  whom  I  borrow  these  penetrating  re- 
marks, adds :  "  They  expend  at  the  feet  of  this  little  tyrant,  in  his 
early  years,  all  the  solicitude,  all  the  cares,  all  the  caresses,  all  the 
funds  of  tenderness,  with  which  they  are  provided.  But  the  funds 
become  exhausted,  tenderness  becomes  wearied,  indolence  super- 
venes ;  at  the  period  when  serious  education  ought  to  begin,  they 
9* 


I02  THE    CHILD. 

that  would  be  doing  nothing :  the  work  within,  the 
work  to  the  heart  —  to  the  root  —  is  the  necessary 
work. 

It  is  there,  in  accordance  with  the  forcible  lan- 
guage of  the  Holy  Books,  that  it  is  necessary  to  root 
out  and  to  plant,  to  destroy  and  to  build.  Yes ;  to 
the  teacher  of  youth,  to  him  also,  it  is  said,  as  to 
the  prophet.  Ego  posui  te  tit  evelias  et  desiruas,  ui 
(Edifices  et  plantes.  Every  teacher  of  youth  who  does 
not  understand  it  thus,  understands  nothing  of  his 
real  mission.  Virgil,  in  his  graceful  language,  for- 
merly said  to  the  cultiv^ator  of  new  vineyards, 
'*  When  the  season  of  spring  arrives,  and  when  the 
promised  fruit  covers  the  tree  with  abundant  flowers 
and  bends  down  its  odorous  branches,  oh  !  then,  then 
observe  it !  "  —  Coiitemplator  item,  ciun  se  mix  plii- 
riina  sylvis.  Indiiet  in  floreni,  et  ramos  ciirvabit 
olentes.  For  all  these  flowers  will  not  one  day  give 
fruit ;  some  of  them  are  false  hopes,  which  will  de- 
ceive the  cultivator.  I  will  say  the  same  to  the  cul- 
tivator of  youth  :  this  age  is  properly  the  season  of 
spring;  everything  opens  and  blossoms  in  those 
young  plants,  in  those  young  souls ;  but  look  well 
into  them  ;  contemplatoj- —  consider  attentively  what 
there  is  in  the  heart,  in  the  calix  of  these  flowers, 
and  see  if  they  promise  good  or  bad  fruits.  Look 
into  them  closely,  and  that,  at  the  same  time,  for 
your  own  instruction,  so  that,  being  better  enlight- 

have  no  longer  heart  for  the  work ;  the  child,  too  much  fawned  upon, 
becomes  ungovernable  ;  they  hasten  to  remit  to  the  cares  of  public 
teachers  the  undertaking  of  his  education,  commenced  with  so  much 
love,  but  so  badly  commenced  ! "  —  On  Home  Education. 


ON    HUMAN    NATURE    IN    THE    CHILD,    ETC,         IO3 

ened,  your  influence  may  have  a  more  serious  effect, 
and  also,  when  you  shall  have  discovered  the  truth, 
for  the  instruction  of  the  child,  in  order  that  he  may 
unite  his  action  with  yours  against  himself.  For  it 
ought  not  to  be  forgotten,  in  order  to  correct  defects, 
the  master  alone  can  do  nothing :  the  child  cannot 
remain  passive  in  such  a  work  :  he  should  co-operate 
in  it  by  a  free  concurrence ;  but,  to  do  that,  he  must 
be  enlightened  with  respect  to  himself.  To  labor  for 
the  correction  of  his  defects,  he  must  first  know 
them,  and  know  them  through  the  master ;  of  him- 
self, and  by  himself  alone,  he  could  not  acquire  this 
knowledge.  Frequently  men  cannot  do  it ;  how 
could  a  child  do  it  ?  We  are  aware  the  knowledge  of 
our  defects  is  as  difficult  as  it  is  necessary ;  hence 
nothing  is  more  uncommon.  He  knows  his  faults 
easily;  and,  no  doubt,  that  is  something;  but  he  does 
not  know  that  which,  nevertheless,  may  be  much 
more  necessary  —  the  defects  which  are  the  origin  of 
them.  He  knows  the  names  of  the  gross  vices  in 
general,  and  sometimes  he  even  casts  a  rapid  glance 
on  himself  to  see  if  he  be  defiled  with  them ;  but 
because  the  defects,  of  early  youth  especially,  have 
not  yet  arrived  at  the  degree  of  malignity  which 
makes  them  vices,  he  finds  himself  pure  from  these 
great  stains,  and  considers  himself  in  safety.  And, 
nevertheless,  the  defects  most  to  be  feared  grow  then, 
and  become  strong  in  the  privacy  of  the  soul. 

In  a  house  of  Christian  education,  for  example,  it 
is  difficult  for  young  people  not  to  know  their  faults. 
In  the  prescribed  duties  of  each  day,  a  thousand  cir- 
cumstances recall  them  to  mind,  and,  consequently, 


I04  THE    CHILD. 

transgressions  are  too  evident  not  to  be  perceived ; 
they  are  facts  on  which  it  is  impossible  for  them  to 
shut  their  eyes.  They  acknov^ledge  their  faults 
then,  and  make  resolutions  on  the  subject ;  but  these 
resolutions  are  seldom  efficacious,  because  they  do 
not  strike  at  the  source  of  the  faults  they  commit ; 
because  they  do  not  really  know  their  defects ;  they 
do  not  wish  to  acknowledge  their  real  defects ;  they 
seldom  examine  themselves  on  their  hidden  defects ; 
and,  I  add,  nothing  is  more  difficult  to  find  than  one 
who  can  aid  us  to  know  ourselves  —  one  who  will 
make  us  know  our  defects.  It  is  easy  enough  to  find 
a  friend  who  consents  to  warn  us  of  our  faults ;  but 
it  is  very  difficult  to  find  one  who  consents  to  ,en- 
lighten  us  on  our  defects.  Warning  a  person  of  his 
faults  is  a  different  matter  from  enlightening  him 
on  his  defects.  The  one  is  simple,  even  easy, 
enough ;  the  other  requires  not  only  great  zeal,  but 
discernment  of  mind  and  a  courageous  sincerity. 
Among  men,  friendship  and  truth  may  here  be  of 
great  assistance ;  and,  nevertheless,  how  rarely  one 
loves  a  friend  truly  enough  to  enlighten  him  on  his 
defects  !  But  among  young  people,  among  children, 
especially,  what  can  these  friendly  admonitions  be, 
save  and  except  warnings  on  their  faults  rather  than 
on  their  defects  ?  and  that  can  be  imagined.  Young 
people  want  the  experience  and  the  qualities  requi- 
site for  discerning  defects  ;  and  frequently,  even  when 
they  do  perceive  them,  they  have  neither  the  neces- 
sary authority  to  make  them  known,  whether  they 
wish  or  not,  to  those  of  their  school-fellows  who  have 
not  thought  of  asking  such  a  service  of  them,  nor 


ON    HUMAN    NATURE    IN    THE    CHILD,    ETC.  IO5 

the  courage  to  declare  them  even  to  those  who  inter- 
rogate them  on  the  subject.  Who,  then,  can  render 
this  important  service  to  young  people  save  those 
whose  office  makes  it  a  duty  —  directors,  professors, 
masters,  and  parents  also  ?  Children  are  perfectly 
sensible  of  this,  as  the  words,  full  of  good  sense  and 
simplicity,  which  one  of  them  wrote  to  his  superior, 
prove,  saying,  *'  You  only  can  be  my  great  mon- 
itor." But  I  should  add  here,  in  speaking  of  the 
defects  of  children,  I  think  of  others  as  well  as  chil- 
dren ;  and  while  recommending  masters  to  study 
their  pupils  attentively,  that  they  may  know  them 
well  and  assist  them  to  correct  themselves,  I  recom- 
mend them  to  do  first,  on  their  own  account,  and  for 
themselves,  the  same  work.  I  take  this  grave  admo- 
nition to  myself  also.  No  one  can  speak  of  the  de- 
fects of  human  nature,  without  being,  as  the  Church 
somewhere  says,  memor  conditionis  sucSy  without 
thinking  of  himself  and  his  weaknesses.  No  one 
here  on  earth  is  actually  in  better  condition  than  his 
brethren  ;  no  one  has  a  right  to  cast  the  first  stone 
at  his  neighbor;  and  when  it  is  one's  duty  to  give 
such  grave  instructions,  and,  if  I  may  so  express  my- 
self, lecture  others,  he  must,  above  all,  be  well  pre- 
pared himself.  After  all,  each  of  us  is  chiefly  inter- 
ested here ;  each  has  seriously  much  to  do  for 
himself.  St.  Augustine  said,  **  There  is  no  fault 
committed  by  a  man  of  which  another  man  may  not 
be  capable,  if  the  grace  of  God  do  not  preserve  him 
from  it."  We  are  all  kneaded  with  the  same  leaven  ; 
we  all  partake,  as  St.  Paul  formerly  said,  of  the  same 
mass  of  original    corruption ;    and,   as   each   is    the 


I06  THE    CHILD. 

workman  more  immediately  charged  with  the  care  of 
his  own  salvation,  with  knowing  himself  well,  know- 
ing well  his  own  defects,  and  laboring  to  correct 
them,  it  is  incontestably  here  that  each  should  begin. 
Moreover,  knowledge  of  one's  self  is  the  best  means 
of  knowing  others  ;  and  from  every  point  of  view, 
the  greatest  service  which  a  teacher  can  receive,  is, 
beyond  dispute,  that  of  being  enlightened  by  a  true, 
sincere  friend  on  his  personal  defects.  Who  does 
not  know  one  of  the  wisest  maxims  proclaimed  by 
antiquity  —  Nosce  te  ipsum ;  and  St.  Augustine's 
most  frequent  prayer  to  our  Lord  was,  Novenm  te, 
noveritn  me  I 

One  year,  when  I  was  Superior  of  the  Petit  Semi- 
naire  of  Paris,  during  six  weeks  I  spoke  for  half  an 
hour  every  evening,  to  all  the  masters  and  pupils,  on 
this  important  subject.  Not  only  had  they  the  cour- 
age to  listen  to  the  harsh,  painful  matters  I  had  to 
speak  of ;  but,  without  my  knowledge,  they  took 
notes,  and  that  in  short-hand,  of  what  I  then  said, 
and  these  form  the  foundation  of  the  present  work. 
Be  that  as  it  may.  At  the  Petit  Seminaire  of  Paris, 
I  did  not  consider  the  house  in  good  working  order 
until  I  had  directed  the  efforts  of  all  to  the  study 
and  correction  of  defects,  until  I  had  inspired  the 
children  with  the  real  desire  of  knowing  all  their  de- 
fects, and  the  masters  with  the  zeal  to  admonish  and 
enlighten  them ;  and,  the  better  to  fulfil  this  duty,  to 
admonish  and  enlighten  themselves  first. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF    THE    DIFFERENT    SPECIES    OF    DEFECTS. 

The  question  then  is,  for  all  and  each  to  know  his 
own  defects,  and  even  those  of  others,  if  it  be  his 
mission  to  correct  them ;  the  question  is  that  of  dis- 
cerning them  in  the  faults  which  manifest  them,  in 
the  secret  recesses  of  the  heart  which  conceals  them, 
and  by  the  side  of  the  excellent  qualities  with  which 
they  are  to  be  found  mixed,  and  of  which  they  are 
sometimes  but  the  excess  or  the  abuse.  All  this 
study,  all  this  discernment,  is  difficult.  Yes,  diffi- 
cult :  for,  firstly,  there  are  some  defects  which  we  do 
not  know ;  secondly,  there  are  some  we  do  not  wish 
to  know ;  thirdly,  there  are  some  we  know,  but 
which  we  do  not  wish  to  correct.  There  are  some 
defects  which  we  do  not  know ;  nothing  is  more  dan- 
gerous ;  they  germinate,  become  rooted,  and  silently 
take  possession  of  the  soul;  and,  when  they  have 
borne  the  bitterest  fruits,  it  is  generally  too  late  to 
uproot  them  ;  at  least  it  becomes  very  difficult.  The 
soul  is  then  like  an  old,  rugged,  knotty  trunk,  that 
has  cast  deep,  interwoven,  living  roots  into  the 
earth ;  this  trunk  opposes  to  the  arm  which  wishes 
to  move  it  an  obstinate  resistance ;  and  if,  after 
great  toil,  we  succeed  in  uprooting  it,  the  soil  where 
it  had  buried  its  roots  is  completely  upturned.     I  am 

107 


I08  THE    CHILD. 

about  to  give  an  example,  very  common  in  houses  of 
education,  of  those  hidden,  unperceived  defects, 
which,  for  want  of  knowing  them,  are  imprudently 
allowed  to  increase.  Here  is  a  child,  sensible,  docile, 
laborious,  intelligent,  full  of  ardor  and  emulation  :  he 
has  good  marks,  good  places  —  has  always  given  sat- 
isfaction. But  gradually,  with  the  pleasure  of  suc- 
cess and  praise,  legitimate,  without  doubt,  but  little 
watched  over,  self-love,  vanity,  and  pride  glide  into 
the  heart  of  the  child,  spread  themselves,  and  insen- 
sibly increase  in  it.  Nevertheless,  while  all  goes  on 
well,  no  one  perceives  anything  ;  but  a  check  arrives, 
or  a  cloud  comes  over  his  conduct ;  the  child  de- 
serves a  bad  place,  or  receives  a  bad  mark ;  suddenly 
vexation  displays  itself,  vanity  is  wounded,  pride  be- 
comes irritated,  and  a  sudden,  unexpected  burst  re- 
veals in  this  child,  believed  to  be  so  good  and  docile, 
a  terrible  defect  which  was  never  suspected,  but 
which  was  there,  growing  every  day,  already  old  and 
deep-rooted,  and  which,  unknowingly,  was  nourished 
as  a*  pleasure.  Thus  one  may  have  in  him  envy, 
temper,  sensuality,  anger,  and  many  other  defects ; 
because  we  are  ignorant  of  them,  we  believe  him 
exempt  from  them  ;  because  they  have  not  yet  burst 
forth,  we  think  they  do  not  exist,  and  we  do  not 
labor  to  cure  them.  What  do  I  say  .^  as  in  this  child, 
perhaps  we  cherish  them,  and,  by  deplorable  impru- 
dence, feed  the  fire  which  smoulders  under  the  ashes. 
And  the  misfortune  is  so  much  the  greater,  because 
time  alone  is  powerless  to  enlighten  him  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, the  longer  this  ignorance  lasts,  the  more  pro- 
found it  usually  becomes.     Thus  we  pass  long  years 


OF    THE    DIFFERENT    SPECIES    OF    DEFECTS.        ICQ 

with  defects  that  every  one  perceives,  every  one  suf- 
fers from ;  which  have  on  a  thousand  occasions  pro- 
duced fruits  of  bitterness,  and  their  existence  was  not 
even  suspected.  In  this  manner  we  find  people  arrive 
at  the  age  of  forty,  fifty  years,  and  beyond  it,  without 
ever  having  the  least  suspicion  of  a  defect  which  has 
been  the  misfortune  of  their  lives.  At  length,  some 
day,  a  courageous  friend,  taking  advantage  of  a  fa- 
vorable opportunity,  dares  to  call  their  attention  to 
the  evil:  —  "You  believe  that  .^^ "  they  say  to  him 
quite  surprised.  ''  Yes,  examine  yourself  from  this 
point  of  view,  and  you  will  see  that  there  is  there 
what  explains  such  imprudence,  such  misfortune, 
perhaps  all  your  vexations,  all  your  faults."  What 
then }  either  they  recognize  their  defects,  and  a 
superhuman  courage  is  necessary  for  the  enterprise 
of  correcting  them  and  keeping  them  from  falling 
into  despair,  or  they  close  their  eyes  to  them,  and 
persevere  in  their  blindness',  which  renders  the  mis- 
fortune irreparable.  Secondly,  there  are,  then,  some 
defects  which  we  do  not  know ;  but,  what  is  still 
worse,  there  are  some  we  do  not  ivish  to  know.  The 
degree  to  which  this  extends,  even  among  children, 
is  really  extraordinary.  For  example,  there  are  chil- 
dren naturally  false,  dissembling,  insincere,  without 
frankness,  untruthful ;  untruthful  from  taste,  from 
vice  of  nature  ;  will  they  acknowledge  this  shameful 
defect  to  themselves  t  No,  they  are  deficient  in  sin- 
cerity with  respect  to  themselves  as  well  as  to  others; 
they  will  lie  to  themselves  as  they  lie  to  everybody. 
The  truth  is,  that,  if  they  do  not  see  their  defects  the 
greater  part  of  the  time,  it  is  also  true,  and  still  more 


no  THE    CHILD. 

grievous  to  add,  they  hardly  ever  wish  to  see  them. 
There  is  in  the  bottom  of  the  heart  a  secret  tendency 
to  self-love  which  makes  them  not  wish  to  know 
themselves,  in  order  not  to  have  to  condemn  them- 
selves ;  or,  again,  sometimes  it  is  a  secret  indolence 
which  does  not  permit  them  to  try  and  make  the 
necessary  efforts  to  correct  themselves.  Here  are 
the  two  unacknowledged  sources  of  this  voluntary 
ignorance,  self-love  and  indolence.  Noluit  intelligcre 
nt  bene  ageret,  says  the  Scripture.  Or  rather,  if  they 
consent  to  cast  their  eyes  on  their  exterior  defects, 
they  never  consent  to  open  them  to  their  interior  de- 
fects, to  the  defects  in  the  depth  of  their  nature,  be- 
cause that  touches  too  closely  on  self,  that  is  to  say, 
on  what  they  hold  nearest  and  dearest  in  the  world. 
On  all  this  they  take  the  part  of  flattering  them- 
selves, and  defend  themselves  against  others  to  the 
utmost.  They  will  not  endure  anything  touching 
what  they  call  conscience,  chaj^acter ;  the  slightest 
contradiction  on  this  point  irritates  ;  the  least  obser- 
vation wounds  ;  every  reprimand  exasperates.  It  is 
curious,  but  profoundly  sad,  to  see  these  poor  people, 
watchful,  on  their  guard,  and,  as  may  be  said,  armed 
from  head  to  foot  against  whosoever  wishes  to  at- 
tempt making  them  become  a  little  better  informed. 
Again,  they  consent  to  be  warned  of  a  fault;  that  is 
an  exterior,  striking  fact ;  it  comes  under  notice,  it 
may  well  be  agreed  to  ;  besides,  it  may  be  accidental, 
and  does  not  imply  a  vice  of  nature ;  but  as  to  a  de- 
fect, it  is  another  thing ;  that  is  in  us,  it  is  ourselves, 
they  feel  the  whole  bearing  of  the  warning  in  this 
place,  and  it  immediately  protests,  by  a  kind  of  in- 


OF    THE    DIFFERENT    SPECIES    OF    DEFECTS.         Ill 

stinctive  instantaneous  repulsion ;  for  this  reason,  in 
admonishing,  to  pass  from  a  fault  to  a  defect  is 
always  a  delicate  affair,  which  is  endured  with  diffi- 
culty. The  above  is  a  very  common,  but  very  dan- 
gerous disposition,  even  among  children ;  it  is  only  a 
father,  a  mother,  a  clear-sighted  superior,  a  watchful 
and  zealous  director,  a  professor  heartily  devoted  to 
his  pupils,  who  can  prudently,  usefully,  efficaciously, 
admonish  them  ;  but  the  essential  condition  of  suc- 
cess is,  that  these  admonitions  be  given  with  great 
friendship  and  kindness  ;  they  will  only  be  received 
with  docility  if  the  child  be  convinced  of  the  affec- 
tion of  him  who  gives  them,  and  he  must  always  feel 
it,  even  in  the  heat  of  words.  Thirdly,  in  fine,  there 
are  defects  which  they  know,  but  do  not  wish  to 
correct ;  and  in  this  case  there  is  positive  infidelity 
to  duty  and  virtue  —  an  infidelity  as  guilty  as  fatal ; 
and  alas !  it  is  necessary  to  add,  that  this  very  fre- 
quently occurs.  From  all  we  have  already  gone 
through  on  this  subject,  we  must  then  conclude  that 
it  is  of  the  highest  importance  to  know  one's  defects, 
and  as  soon  as  possible ;  that  it  is  necessary  to 
wish  to  know  them,  and  consequently  the  means  of 
seeking  them  out ;  in  fine,  that  one  can  never  be  ex- 
cused for  not  wishing  to  correct  a  defect  when  he 
knows  it.  We  should  add,  for  the  strongest  reason, 
a  defect  should  never  be  flattered ;  we  may  say,  also, 
that  none  should  ever  be  neglected,  whether  it  be 
serious  or  slight.  A  defect  flattered,  or  even  simply 
neglected,  insensibly  increases,  and  in  the  end  be- 
comes predominant.  Then  if  it  be  serious,  and  of  a 
certain  nature,  the  consequences  may  be  incalcula- 


112  THE    CHILD. 

ble ;  the  evil  can  no  longer  be  arrested :  we  have 
some  truly  terrible  examples  of  this  kind.  I  will 
now  mention  two  of  these  defects,  which  may  easily 
become  predominant  when  neglected;  but  I  will  here 
only  point  out  to  masters  and  young  people  those 
two  domestic  tyrants,  which  are  the  two  plagues 
most  to  be  feared  at  this  age ;  I  mean  effeminacy 
and  pride.  Their  ravages  are  really  frightful ;  they 
tyrannize  despotically  over  souls ;  they  sometimes 
retain  them  in  the  most  complete  and  disgraceful 
servitude.  I  shall  refer  to  them  again  shortly  and 
in  detail.  I  shall  now  give  the  reason  of  the  surpris- 
ing predominance  of  certain  defects  in  the  soul ;  it  is 
necessary  to  understand  it  well ;  it  relates  to  the 
sources,  even  the  deepest,  of  our  nature ;  it  is  because 
since  original  sin  there  is  not  a  bad  germ  in  us,  how- 
ever trifling  or  pitiful  it  may  be,  which  has  not  a  ten- 
dency to  increase,  if  it  be  not  combated ;  which  has 
not  a  tendency  to  take  possession  of  all,  rule  all,  cor- 
rupt all ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  there  is  no  good  dis- 
position which  has  not  a  tendency  to  decay,  if  it  be 
not  cherished,  and  if  we  be  not  intent  on  strengthen- 
ing it.  And  for  this  reason,  also,  we  should  never 
neglect  a  good  disposition  ;  a  virtue,  a  grace,  how- 
ever trifling  it  may  appear,  if  neglected,  will  per- 
ish. Hence  so  many  vocations  become  lost,  so  many 
futures  shipwrecked,  because  the  first  grace  has  been 
neglected.  Vast  subject!  which  of  itself  alone 
would  furnish  matter  for  the  gravest  instruction. 
Let  us  now  enter  into  details. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

CLASSIFICATION    OF    DEFECTS. 

We  do  not  mean  to  write  a  treatise  on  psychology 
or  ethics  here,  and  it  is  by  no  means  our  intention  to 
give  a  philosophical  and  complete  classification. 
We  write  for  practical  men,  for  masters,  or  rather 
for  young  minds,  who  have  less  need  of  a  learned 
analysis  of  the  human  soul  than  of  precise  indica- 
tions easy  to  be  remembered.  Without  occuping 
ourselves  to  know  whether,  from  a  scientific  point  of 
view,  the  following  division  is  correct,  we  simply  say 
that  the  defects,  whether  positive  or  negative,  may 
be  classed,  according  to  their  kind,  as  corporal  de- 
fects, intellectual  defects,  and  moral  defects. 

Firstly,  the  corporal,  physical,  exterior  defects. 
We  consider  it  indispensable  to  describe  them  here, 
because  they  are  of  more  importance  than  is  gen- 
erally supposed.  What  do  I  say  ?  They  may  have 
the  most  serious  influence  in  after-life  on  the  success 
of  the  work  which  we  shall  be  called  on  to  perform. 
Education  has  not  only  a  hold  on  such  defects,  but 
it  can  do  much  towards  making  them  disappear,  or 
at  least  considerably  lessening  them.  We  ought  to 
mention  that  there  are  some  to  whom  they  cling 
during  life,  because  they  have  never  been  admon- 
ished of  them  with  courageous  and  enlightened  char- 
lo*  in 


114  THE    CHILD. 

ity.  For  example,  apathetic  dulness,  coarse  or  awk- 
ward manners,  a  bad  pronunciation,  and  many  other 
defects  of  the  same  kind,  may  deprive  us  of  the  re- 
spect, confidence,  and  consideration  required  by  us 
from  many  people,  who  can  only  know  us  through 
our  exterior  relatione !  And  these  arc  defects  of 
which  one  can  never  rid  himself,  unless  he  labor  to 
do  so  in  good  time.  Again,  for  example  —  excuse 
such  details  —  certain  disagreeable  infirmities,  v/hich 
one  is  himself  ignorant  of,  a  bad  breath,  a  disagree- 
able odor  from  the  feet,  a  want  of  neatness,  and  such 
like  things,  may  inspire  an  unconquerable  disgust  for 
the  most  sensible  and  bcst-intentioned  persons. 
There  arc  precautions  to  be  taken,  and  which  people 
do  not  take,  because  they  have  not  been  warned  of 
these  defects  and  their  remedies.  Hov/  many  times 
have  I  not  seen  persons,  men  of  consideration, 
obliged  to  hold  a  council,  in  order  to  know  how  they 
might  render  acceptable  to  a  friend  an  admonition  on 
these  points,  so  delicate  and  important,  nevertheless- 
80  simple !  Thus,  again,  a  discordant  voice,  ridic- 
ulous gestures,  a  vulgar  or  harsh  accent,  may  annul 
the  effect  of  the  most  eloquently  written  and  most 
learnedly  composed  sermon.  I  repeat  it,  there  are 
defects  thai  it  is  certainly  useful  to  know ;  for  then, 
if  there  be  still  time,  they  may  be  corrected.  Never- 
theless, how  rarely  is  advice,  even  on  these  defects, 
however  harmless  they  may  be,  gratefully  received ! 
And  how  few  tender  and  devoted  friends  are  to  be 
found,  even  sensible  directors,  who  will  dare  or  think 
of  admonishing  on  them !  It  is  a  great,  and  some- 
times an  immense,  service  to  render.      If  it  be  so 


CLASSIFICATION    OF    DEFECTS.  II 5 

necessary  to  know  even  one's  physical  defects,  how 
much  more  so  is  it  to  know  the  defects  of  one's 
mind,  his  intellectual  defects  !  But,  it  must  be  said, 
it  is  here  especially  that  every  one  is  completely 
ignorant,  or  wishes  to  be  ignorant,  of  himself.  And, 
on  the  other  hand,  how  difficult  to  find  a  sincere  and 
courageous  monitor  for  such  defects  !  These  defects 
are  of  different  kinds,  and  more  or  less  serious. 
For  example,  there  is  want  of  taste,  which,  in  a 
writer  or  a  preacher,  will  give  to  whatever  he  pro- 
duces, though  at  the  same  time  brilliant  and  solid, 
affectation,  inflation,  intemperance,  oddity;  in  a 
word,  may  draw  him  into  the  most  grievous  and  ridic- 
ulous errors.  There  is  the  want  cf  judgment,  espe- 
cially practical  judgment,  errors  cf  which,  in  the 
principal  events  of  life,  may  cast  a  person  into  the 
falsest  paths,  precipitate  him  into  enormous,  and  fre- 
quently irreparable,  mistakes ;  in  fine,  causing  him 
to  wander,  and  make  others,  if  it  be  his  duty  to 
direct  them,  wander  at  every  step.  And  who  will 
endure  being  warned  of  this  defect,  the  only  remedy 
for  which  can  be  the  knowledge  of  it,  and  mistrust 
of  self.'*  There  is  the  want  of  what  is  called  wit,  or 
rather  the  want  of  imagination.  No  doubt,  it  is  not 
necessary  to  have  an  amount  of  wit  or  imagination ; 
but  it  is  indispensable  that  we  should  not  think  we 
have  it  when  we  have  it  not :  for  the  sensible  man- 
agement of  life,  it  is  necessary  to  know  how  far  a  per- 
son is  certain  on  this  point ;  otherwise  he  will  apply 
himself  to  matters  for  which  he  has  not  capacity, 
and  in  applying  himself  to  them  he  will  but  lose  his 
time,  and  accumulate  follies. 


Il6  THE    CHILD. 

There  is  the  more  serious  want  of  penetration, 
elevation,  extent  of  mind.  This  is  a  serious,  but 
common,  defect.  With  such  a  defect  one  can  never 
be  intrusted  with  certain  work,  certain  important 
functions,  certain  delicate  matters,  without  being  ex- 
posed to  taking  false  measures  ;  narrowing,  lowering, 
and  perhaps  stifling,  the  finest  works.  It  is  neces- 
sary at  least  that  he  distrust  himself  with  reference 
to  this,  consequently  know  himself,  and,  in  order  to 
do  that,  suffer  being  admonished.  There  is,  even 
in  the  mind,  a  certain  want  of  sensibiHty,  of  which 
I  will  say  a  few  words,  because  this  defect  is  very 
serious,  and  prevents  one  on  many  occasions  from 
accomplishing  the  most  useful  work,  because  he 
knows  not  the  road  to  the  heart,  because  he  cannot 
adapt  himself  to  the  pleasures  or  the  sorrows  of 
others,  and  give  timely  encouragements  or  efficacious 
consolations.  Well,  there  are  these  defects,  and 
many  others  quite  as  serious,  which  it  is  as  impor- 
tant to  know,  and  of  which  no  one,  as  we  have 
already  said,  has  the  courage  to  inform  us,  because 
to  inform  a  person  of  a  mental  defect  wounds  him 
to  the  quick. 

There  is  scarcely  one  with  which  we  can  bear  to 
be  reproached,  except  want  of  memory;  this  we 
willingly  enough  acknowledge.  With  respect  to  all 
others,  we  do  not  know  them,  we  do  not  wish  to 
know  them ;  whether  it  be  through  presumption,  we 
believe  ourselves  capable  of  everything ;  whether  it 
be  through  indolence,  we  do  not  wish  to  make  any 
effort;  in  fine,  whether  it  be  through  giddiness,  we 
cannot  listen  to  anything  serious.     I  repeat,  there  is, 


CLASSIFICATION    OF    DEFECTS.  11/ 

nevertheless,  hardly  any  of  these  defects,  however 
profound  they  may  be  or  appear  to  be,  of  which  we 
cannot  correct  ourselves  at  least  partly,  or  the  dis- 
astrous consequences  of  which  may  not  be  prevented, 
if  we  have  the  happiness  to  be  informed  of  them, 
the  good  sense  to  permit  ourselves  to  be  informed 
of  them ;  the  good  will  to  attempt  what  we  are  capa- 
ble of,  so  as  to  improve  ourselves ;  and,  finally,  the 
modesty  to  keep  to  those  works  which  can  really  lead 
to  good. 

But  it  may  be  said  to  me,  Are  there  really  effica- 
cious remedies  for  these  serious  defects  ?  Thanks  to 
God,  there  are,  and  remedies  almost  infallible ;  and 
these  are,  humility  and  application. 

There  is  hardly  any  one,  however  mediocre  his 
mind  may  be,  to  whom  we  cannot  say,  Be  humble, 
and  have  the  intention,  and  you  can  do  great  things. 
Humility  is  not  only  supreme  justice,  but  also  su- 
preme wisdom.  It  is  not  an  easy  matter  to  persuade 
vain  and  frivolous  minds  of  this.  Nevertheless,  it 
can  be  done  in  education ;  and  I  have  often  seen  it 
succeed.  At  present  I  know  men,  priests,  who  have 
become  very  useful,  even  distinguished ;  some  of 
them  occupy  the  first  rank,  who  nevertheless  were, 
and  would  have  remained,  of  ordinary  nature,  but 
for  the  benefit  derived  from  their  education  and  the 
docility  of  their  youth.  Thanks  to  this  double  bless- 
ing, from  ordinary  natures  they  have  yielded  ex- 
traordinary fruits,  suppHed  the  deficiencies,  developed 
their  qualities,  drawn  from  themselves  all  that  God 
had  placed  in  them,  and,  in   this  manner,  have  be- 


115  THE    CHILD. 

come  elevated  even  above  their  nature :  to-day  they 
serve  the  church  and  society  gloriously. 

The  moral  defects,  of  which  we  have  now  to 
speak,  are  evidently  the  most  serious ;  for,  if  they 
are  not  themselves  actually  sins,  they  are,  at  least, 
the  sources  of  sin.  Among  these  defects,  there  are 
some  I  will  call  natural,  because  they  belong  to  the 
character,  the  nature,  the  spiritual,  and  sometimes 
even  the  physical,  constitution  of  the  individual ;  the 
others  I  will  permit  myself  to  designate  the  super- 
natural, because  they  are  especially  opposed  to  the 
virtues  of  grace,  and  are  in  man  a  most  marked 
effect  of  the  loss  of  original  justice.^ 

The  natural  defects  of  a  moral  kind  are  very  fre- 
quently founded  in  a  quality  which  may  become 
valuable,  if  the  want  of  which  it  is  the  exaggera- 
tion, and  of  which  it  makes  a  deformity,  be  supplied. 
For  example :  a  cool,  discreet,  reserved  character 
sometimes  appears  concentrated  and  savage ;  never- 
theless, experience  has  taught  me  that  these  charac- 
ters frequently  conceal  under  this  apparent  coolness 
a  profound  sensibility,  and  are  capable  of  the  truest 
and  most  devoted  affection.  What  is  necessary, 
then,  in  bringing  them  up,  is  to  open  and  expand  the 
heart,  inspire  them  with  a  more  overflowing  sensi- 
biUty,   a  mild    and    affectionate    affabihty :    there  is 


1  In  what  sense,  and  from  what  point  of  view,  I  use  the  word 
"supernatural,"  may  be  seen;  for  I  am  not  ignorant  of,  and  by  no 
means  intend  to  contradict,  the  utterance  of  the  Cotmcil  of  Trent, 
which  declares  man,  by  the  sin  of  Adam,  not  only  stripped  of  the 
gifts  of  grace,  but  wounded  ever  in  the  gifts  of  nature  —  viilnerata  in 
naturalibus. 


CLASSIFICATION    OF    DEFECTS.  IIQ 

then  found  in  such  natures  only  a  reserved  dehcacy, 
which,  leaving  itself  to  be  divined,  has  but  the 
more  charms,  —  the  gravity,  dignity,  composure,  and 
precious  dominion  of  the  soul  over  itself.  A  firm 
character  is  prone  to  harshness  ;  a  lively  character,  to 
bluntness.  If  these  defects  be  carefully  corrected, 
there  will  remain  of  the  firmness  only  activity  and 
zeal. 

There  are  some  children  who  have  what  may  be 
called  a  melancholy  nature,  a  most  tender  heart,  and 
a  very  reflecting  mind.  That  is  very  dangerous  — 
at  least,  unless  the  child  should  have  good  judgment, 
a  firm  character,  and  solid  piety.  Too  reflecting  a 
mind  wearies  the  tender  heart,  grieves  it :  after- 
wards come  the  inevitable  disappointments  of  life, 
the  frictions ;  such  a  nature  cannot  bear  them. 
What  care  the  education  of  these  children  require ! 
I  have  said,  that,  by  the  side  of  these  defects,  there 
is  generally  a  good  quaUty  to  be  met  with,  of  which 
they  are  the  exaggeration  and  corruption :  neverthe- 
less, there  are  some  of  these  natural  defects  which 
do  not  disguise  any  good  quality ;  hence  they  are  the 
more  dangerous.  A  frivolous,  vain,  capricious,  rest- 
less character  produces  disagreeable  consequences, 
frequently  even  the  most  unhappy.  Giddiness,  in- 
clination to  chattering,  and  indiscretion,  are,  in  every 
position,  grievous,  and  sometimes  very  dangerous  ; 
but  it  can  be  easily  imagined  at  what  point,  espe- 
cially in  a  certain  age  and  certain  positions,  these 
may  become  the  source  of  the  most  serious  incon- 
venience. Giddiness  may  cause  a  priest  to  forget 
the  most  sacred  of  his  duties ;  gossiping  and  indis- 


120  THE    CHILD. 

cretion  are,  on  thousands  of  occasions,  the  causes  of 
discord,  and  sometimes  give  birth  to  the  most  terri- 
ble misery.  We  can  never  make  children  compre- 
hend sufficiently  that  the  faults  which  they  commit 
every  day  —  trifling  in  themselves,  perhaps  —  are  not 
so  if  they  consider  the  principles  from  which  they 
arise,  and  the  consequences  that  these  evil  princi- 
ples may  lead  to ;  that  the  faults  should  be  less  re- 
garded than  the  defects  from  which  they  proceed ; 
that  this  defect  which  now,  in  their  restricted  life, 
causes  them  to  commit  small  faults,  will,  later  on, 
cause  them  to  commit  capital  ones,  if  it  remain  in 
them  ;  and  remain  it  will,  if  they  do  not  courageously 
attack  and  uproot  it.  It  is  by  such  considerations 
that  the  watchful  severity  of  their  masters  should 
be  justified  in  their  eyes,  and  they  induced  to  arm 
themselves  with  a  generous  will  against  their  own 
defects. 

I  will  say  with  respect  to  the  correction  of  moral 
defects  that  which  I  said  of  intellectual  defects : 
many,  though  they  cling,  like  the  latter,  even  to  the 
nature  of  the  individual,  may  also,  like  them,  be  cor- 
rected or  diminished  by  constant  practice  of  the 
virtues  opposed  to  them  ;  true  humility  knows  how 
to  discover  them,  and  Christian  perseverance  in  duty 
can  uproot,  or  at  least  lessen,  them.  No  ;  there  is  no 
man  who  cannot,  by  humility,  and  fidelity  to  duty, 
improve  himself,  and  pursue  a  useful  career  ;  no  weak 
character  that  cannot  strengthen  itself;  no  harsh 
character  which  cannot  render  itself  endurable ;  no 
irascible  character  which  cannot  soften  itself.  But, 
to  arrive  at  such  desirable  and  uncommon  results, 


CLASSIFICATION    OF    DEFECTS.  121 

how  much  zeal  and  light  is  necessary  for  those  whose 
office  it  is  to  admonish,  direct,  and  improve  souls ! 
How  much  docility  is  necessary  for  those  who  ought 
to  accept  advice,  sometimes  so  painful  to  hear, 
though  so  important  to  be  followed !  All  that  we 
say  respecting  the  zeal  of  masters  and  the  docility 
necessary  in  children  may  be  applied  with  particular 
truth  in  certain  cases  and  to  certain  natures,  among 
which  want  of  harmony,  of  equilibrium,  and  the 
strongest  contradictions,  are  to  be  met  with.  The 
degree  to  which  this  sometimes  extends  is  wonder- 
ful. For  example,  we  meet  in  a  young  man  an  inex- 
plicable mixture  of  frivolity  and  seriousness,  of  van- 
ity and  sense,  of  mildness  and  harshness,  of  sight 
and  bUndness  respecting  himself,  of  nobility  of  soul 
and  moral  wretchedness,  firmness  of  mind  and 
weakness  of  character,  rectitude  of  judgment,  up- 
rightness, and  goodness  of  heart,  with  weakness  of 
will,  and  insensibility  of  conscience,  —  natures  whose 
contrasts  stupefy  the  attentive  observer,  so  much  are 
they  extraordinarily  strong  and  extraordinarily  weak, 
deep  and  frivolous,  tender  and  suddenly  dry  and 
harsh,  having  a  frankness  sometimes  admirable, 
nevertheless  capable  of  such  dissimulation  that  they 
seem  to  have  the  simplicity  and  composure  of  can- 
dor, a  quick,  clear,  understanding,  and  a  conscience 
so  obscure  that  it  appears  to  be  extinct,  a  gratitude 
in  which  feeling  and  delicacy  share  the  expressions, 
and  which  can  suddenly  give  way  to  the  most  un- 
grateful appearances  ;  again,  no  character  more  firm, 
or  which  assumes  more  pretension  to  courage,  and 
at   the   same   time   more  deficient   in    moral    force. 


122  THE    CHILD. 

Yes ;  in  the  course  of  my  life  I  have  often  seen  the 
want,  of  harmony,  I  was  about  to  say  a  divorce,  be- 
tween the  different  powers  of  the  soul  —  the  under- 
standing, the  heart,  the  will,  the  conscience ;  and 
this  in  the  highest  order  of  souls  and  natures.  Yes, 
I  have  seen  souls  of  the  most  uncommon,  penetrat- 
ing, spontaneous  intelligence,  even  with  a  feeling 
and  noble  heart,  capable  of  the  most  grievous  fail- 
ings and  most  painful  errors ;  reason  neither  en- 
lightening the  heart  nor  the  conscience,  moral  sense 
totally  deficient,  a  great  uprightness,  a  lively  sim- 
plicity created  for  truth,  a  candor  created  for  light, 
and  all  this  suddenly  wind  up  with  lying ;  a  heart 
profoundly  tender,  but  this  heart  without  light  and 
strength,  wavering  in  darkness,  and  this  depth  of 
sensibility  becoming  an  abyss  of  misery.  These 
natures  are  frightful ;  in  spite  of  the  superiority  of 
mind  and  the  dispositions  of  the  heart,  a  deplorable 
moral  deficiency  may  be  met  with,  and  consequently 
the  greatest  misfortunes  occur  during  life.  How  im- 
portant it  is  to  study  such  natures,  and  do  every- 
thing to  assist  them  !  But  frequently  the  best  edu- 
cation is  not  conducted  in  this  manner.  These  con- 
trasting natures  weary  and  exhaust  the  masters : 
they  do  not  know  how  to  penetrate,  to  define,  to 
govern  them ;  few  are  capable  of  the  intelligent, 
constant,  study  necessary  for  that ;  few  have  an  eye 
sufficiently  penetrating,  a  hand  sufficiently  pliant 
and  strong..  Also,  how  many  times  are  they  given 
up !  how  many  times  have  I  heard  it  said  of  these 
children,  of  these  young  people,  in  a  dejected  tone, 
"They  are  unaccountable"!     Yes,  but  it  is  for  you 


CLASSIFICATION    OF    DEFECTS.  12$ 

to  define  them,  and  to  do  everything  in  order  to 
accompHsh  this  end ;  it  is  for  you  to  attend  to  them, 
to  regard  them  closely,  to  beware  of  illusions,  pre- 
judices, and  especially  dejection  ;  it  is  for  you  to 
remedy  all  this  want  of  equilibrium,  to  harmonize 
all  these  contrasts,  find  out  their  deficiencies,  take 
hold  of  their  weak  points,  opposing  their  strength  to 
their  weakness,  their  resources  to  their  defects, 
especially  to  enlighten  those  natures  with  respect 
to  themselves;  point  out  to  them  the  danger;  in 
fine,  to  determine  the  definitive  preponderance  of 
good  qualities  in  them  in  such  a  direction  as  to  con- 
quer their  defects.  But  for  a  work  of  this  kind  — 
for  so  difficult  a  cure  —  I  will  say  piety  is  the  indis- 
pensable auxiliary ;  it  is  piety  only  that  can  save 
souls  in  such  great  peril ;  piety  alone  can  harmonize 
such  natures  —  serve  them  as  ballast  and  counter- 
poise, invincibly  strengthen  the  understanding  and 
the  conscience,  shelter  the  heart  forever. 

This  is  evidently  one  of  the  most  delicate,  most 
difficult  matters  in  education.  As  to  me,  nothing 
has  ever  cost  me  more  care  and  more  trouble  than  the 
culture  of  these  souls.  Permit  me  to  repeat  here,  in 
all  its  warmth  and  rude  frankness,  the  speech  which 
I  one  day  addressed,  with  tender  severity  and  merci- 
less truth  to  one  of  them.  These  words  were  useful 
to  his  soul ;  they  may  be  so  to  others  likewise :  "  Of 
all  the  powers  in  your  soul,  understanding  alone  re- 
mains upright.  But,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  the 
most  singular  rupture  seems  to  have  taken  place  be- 
tween it,  your  conscience,  and  your  heart.  From 
this  understanding,  so  clear,  so  quick,  sometimes  so 

U3JI7ERSITT)] 


t 


124  THE    CHILD. 

luminous,  light  scarcely  ever  descends  into  con- 
science, causing  it  to  say,  with  a  firm  and  decisive 
judgment.  This  is  good,  this  is  evil.  Again,  still 
less  light  in  this  poor  heart  to  make  it  love,  sincerely 
love,  what  is  good,  what  is  amiable ;  to  make  it 
note,  seriously  note,  what  is  bad,  what  offends  God. 
This  evident  rupture  of  such  an  understanding  with 
the  conscience  and  the  heart  is  something  mon- 
strous to  view  closely,  as  I  have  been  obliged  to  do. 
It  would  make  one  wish  himself  blind,  in  order  not 
to  see  the  profound  change,  the  singular  abasement, 
as  it  were,  a  headlong  descent  of  its  natural  eleva- 
tion, in  what  remains  of  this  understanding,  this 
ardor,  this  uprightness,  which  is  still  so  quick  to 
recognize  the  truth.  There  is  sometimes  a  shocking, 
even  a  gross,  lowering  of  its  primitive  dignity,  and 
that  often  to  the  most  fantastic  vulgarity.  The 
moral  levity  of  this  poor  intellect  is  still  an  enigma 
to  me,  and  does  not  suffice  to  explain  the  bhndness 
and  impenetrable  mystery  of  your  conscience.  You 
are  aware  I  have  given  up  fathoming  it;  I  have 
receded  before  what  St.  Paul  calls  the  mystery  of  in- 
iquity—  mysterium  iiiiquitatis .  The  frightful  ser- 
pent—  the  Liar  —  has  passed  there.  Let  me  say 
more;  he  has  sojourned  in  it.  The  ideas  of  good 
and  evil,  the  principles  of  faith  even,  all  have  been 
disturbed  —  virtue,  innocence,  religion;  it  is  difficult 
to  say  what  this  poor  conscience  firmly  believes. 
But  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  that,  if  the  measure  of 
iniquity  in  your  conscience  has  not  been  filled  up 
until  these  latter  days,  the  foibles,  the  defects,  ob- 
scuring this  conscience,  have  not  ceased  to  increase 


CLASSIFICATION    OF    DEFECTS.  125 

since  your  ninth  or  tenth  year,  if  I  remember  rightly 
what  you  told  me  of  those  early  times.  In  a  word, 
under  pain  of  exposing  yourself  to  the  most  fright- 
ful danger,  and  of  seeing  yourself,  one  day  of  your 
life,  burst  into  the  most  unforeseen  and  irremediable 
scandals,  you  ought  never  to  forget  the  terrible  moral 
void,  the  disastrous  deficiency,  which,  in  this  chief 
point,  I  have  found  in  your  soul.  I  repeat  it,  in  my 
long  career  I  have  never  seen  anything  which  sur- 
prises me  more,  anything  which  leaves  me  more  anx- 
ious, than  your  future.  My  hope  is  in  your  docility, 
your  confidence,  your  firm  and  very  faithful  resolu- 
tion, even  to  this  day,  of  observing  your  rule,  and  of 
telHng  to  those  who  direct  you,  not  only  your  faults, 
but  your  defects,  your  whims,  your  contrasts,  your 
deficiencies,  such  as  this  great  and  sad  circumstance 
now  makes  known  to  you." 

But  let  us  leave  for  a  moment  these  details ;  let  us 
go  still  farther  to  the  bottom  of  these  matters ;  let 
us  penetrate  to  the  origin,  even  to  the  root,  of  these 
defects. 

II* 


CHAPTER   X. 

PROFOUND     ORIGIN    OF    OUR   DEFECTS  :     ORIGINAL    SIN : 
THE    TRIPLE    CONCUPISCENCE. 

The  moral  defects  which  we  name  supernatural, 
have  more  particularly,  as  we  said  in  explaining  this 
word,  their  source  in  original  sin,  and  are,  above  all 
others,  opposed  to  the  more  special  virtues  of  grace ; 
they  form  in  us,  we  may  say,  a  second  nature,  so 
deeply  enrooted  are  they  found  to  be.  No  one  is  en- 
tirely exempt  from  their  taint,  and  it  is  the  evil  which 
lies  deepest  in  our  moral  nature,  since  the  heart  of 
man  has  been  corrupted.  Assuredly  the  light  which 
can  most  completely  inform  us,  in  this  respect,  ought 
to  come  from  Him  who  knows,  better  than  we  do,  all 
our  disorders,  and  even  the  depths  of  sad  humanity  in 
in  us.  One  of  the  most  striking  proofs  of  the  divinity 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures  is  the  energy,  the  clearness, 
the  profundity,  with  which  the  Bible  reveals  to  us 
those  of  our  vices  which  are  the  sources  of  all  others. 
We  admire  there  the  eye  of  God,  probing  human 
nature  with  a  piercing  look,  and  discovering  all  that 
is  deepest  and  most  hidden  in  man.  Here  is  what 
St.  John  the  Evangelist  says  on  this  subject :  Omne 
qiiod  est  in  imindo  conaipiscentia  carnis  est,  et  concii- 
piscentia  occulorum,  et  superbia  vitce.  These  three 
phrases  give  the  fullest  explanation  of  the  foundation 
126 


PROFOUND    ORIGIN    OF    OUR    DEFECTS.  127 

of  human  affairs.  Ancient  philosophy,  in  the  wisest 
of  its  sayings  relating  to  the  present  question,  has 
never  pronounced  anything  to  equal  this  simple 
verse  of  St.  John.  Without  the  light  of  these  words, 
the  moral  world  —  entire  humanity  —  would  be  an 
enigma.  All  the  evils  of  human  nature  proceed  from 
these  three  sources  :  nevertheless,  there  is  one  of  the 
three  that  may  be  considered  the  most  prolific,  and 
to  which  all  may  be  referred ;  it  is  pride  —  superbia 
vitcE.  In  addition  to  all  the  hideous  and  numerous 
offspring  entirely  its  own,  it  is  also,  if  we  look 
closely  into  it,  the  father  of  the  two  other  sources  of 
evil  indicated  here.  The  Scripture  itself,  in  another 
passage,  teaches  this  sad  and  mysterious  unity  of 
the  causes  of  our  vices  :  Iiiitimn  cmnis  peccati  su- 
perbia. 

However,  in  order  thus  to  trace  back  every  evil  to 
pride,  the  most  serious  reflection,  and  sometimes 
very  difficult  research,  are  necessary  ;  the  explicit  defi- 
nition given  by  St.  John  of  the  three  sources  of  all  evil 
in  us, — pride,  sensuality,  cupidity,  —  is,  I  say,  most 
suitable  to  make  every  one  comprehend  how  the  de- 
fects and  vices  which  afflict  humanity  arise.  But  it  is 
a  very  remarkable  fact,  that,  in  these  three  profound 
words  with  which  the  evangelist  sums  up  all  the 
evil  of  the  human  heart,  he  addresses  himself  to 
young  people,  even  to  children,  as  well  as  grown 
men  ;  because  this  concupiscence  is  in  children  and 
the  young  as  well  as  in  men ;  because  children  and 
young  people  are  the  men  of  the  future ;  because 
childhood  and  youth  are  life  in  its  gerrn.  Hence  in 
these  young  hearts  are  the  seeds  of  all  which  should 


128  THE    CHILD. 

spring  up  and  appear  later  on.  It  is,  then,  in  this 
early  age  that  the  triple  concupiscence  should  be 
combated,  under  pain  oE  seeing  it  afterwards  put 
forth  terrible  and  vigorous  shoots.  But  it  must  be 
also  wrestled  with  during  our  whole  life.  It  is  for 
this  reason  St.  John  calls  all  ages  to  this  work — 
fathers,  as  well  as  sons ;  masters  at  the  same  time  as 
their  pupils ;  old  men,  as  well  as  young  men,  and 
children  themselves.  He  addresses  himself  to  all, 
without  exception  :  to  fathers,  scribo  vobis,  patres ; 
to  young  men,  to  youths,  to  children,  vobis  jtivencs, 
adolescentes,  infantes.  And  St.  John  himself  gives 
his  reason  for  thus  specially  appealing  to  youth,  be- 
cause it  is  the  age  of  generous  zeal,  of  valiant  strife  : 
Scribo  vobis,  adolescentes,  quia  vicistis  nialigmnn  — 
"  I  write  to  you,  young  men,  because  you  have  con- 
quered the  enemy  and  the  evil."  Saibo  vobis,  ju- 
venes,  qttoiiia7n  fortes  estis — "  I  write  to  you,  young 
men,  because  you  are  strong."  Yes  ;  in  spite  of  the 
degeneracy  of  the  age,  Christian  youth  is  strong  ;  it 
has  in  it  a  divine  source  of  strength  and  virtue,  of 
which  the  apostle  says,  Et  Verbtim  Dei  manct  in 
vobis — "And  the  Word  of  God  dwells  in  you." 
Behold  why  Christian  youth  is  strong:  it  has  in  it 
the  Word  of  God,  the  revealed  lights  and  inspira- 
tions of  faith;  and  through  these  divine  virtues  it 
triumphs  over  the  Evil  Spirit  —  et  vicistis  malig- 
num  ! 

You,  then,  who  bring  up  the  rising  generation,  and 
who  also  have  in  you  the  Word  of  God,  the  super- 
natural strength  of  faith  and  grace,  call  Christian 
youth,  and  guide  it  to  the  holy  strife,  to  the  struggle 


THE    TRIPLE    CONCUPISCENCE.  1 29 

against  the  enemy,  against  evil,  against  the  triple 
concupiscence,  —  all  the  success  of  its  education  de- 
pends upon  that.  I  have  already  said,  and  I  repeat 
it,  whosoever  does  not  know,  that,  in  the  great  work 
of  education,  it  is  against  the  triple  concupiscence 
he  must  struggle,  knows  nothing,  does  nothing. 
Owing  to  their  foundation,  the  principles  of  educa- 
tion partake  of  the  same  idea  with  the  highest  Chris- 
tian ethics,  which  always  point  out  this  triple  concu- 
piscence as  the  eternal  enemy  of  -the  soul  and  of 
salvation,  and  teach  that  it  must  be  unceasingly  mor- 
tified, crucified,  bound  to  the  three  branches  of  the 
Cross ;  thus  proving  that  the  great  doctrine  of  Chris- 
tian mortification,  which  is  the  main  point  of  the 
medicinal  morality  of  the  Gospel,  is  also  the  sinew 
of  all  real  education.  And  here,  again,  the  words  of 
St.  Paul  become  admirably  verified :  Pietas  ad  om- 
nia iitilis  est — ''Piety  is  useful  for  all  things."  It 
is  on  this  account,  that,  in  a  house  of  Christian  edu- 
cation, so  much  importance  is  attached  to  piety. 
Let  us  now  enter  into  all  the  details  of  this  sad  and 
important  subject. 


CHAPTER  XL 

PRIDE,  SUPERBIA  VIT^,  THE  CHIEF  SOURCE  OF  OUR 
DEFECTS. 

I. 

Pride ;  its  Nature. 

Pride,  the  principal  and  most  fruitful  of  deadly 
sins,  occupies  a  sad  and  wide  space  in  human  life. 
No  vice  extends  its  empire  farther.  It  is  to  be  met 
with  in  all  men,  all  ages,  all  states  of  life.  It  blends 
with  everything ;  it  invades  every  place ;  it  is  the 
universal  evil.  As  Bossuet  admirably  says,  **  It  is 
this  vice  which  has  flowed  into  the  depths  of  our  in- 
terior with  the  words  of  the  serpent,  who  said  to  us, 
in  the  person  of  Eve,  '  You  will  be  as  gods  '  —  eritis 
siciit  dii.  We  have  swallowed  this  mortal  poison ; 
it  has  penetrated  even  to  the  marrow  of  our  bones, 
and  our  whole  soul  is  Infected  with  it."  ^  Again,  it 
is  the  temptation  of  every  creature.  The  dream  of 
pride  in  every  soul  is  to  ascend  —  in  his  mind,  in  his 
heart,  in  his  life ;  to  exalt  itself,  to  intoxicate  itself, 
with  its  own  excellences.  Pride  is,  then,  at  the  same 
time,  the  oldest  malady  of  our  nature,  and  the  most 
dangerous  wound  that  the  ancient  enemy  of  man- 
kind could  have  given  us ;  and  he  has  given  it  of  a 

1  Treatise  on  Concupiscence,  chap.  x. 
130 


pride;  its  nature.  131 

frightful  depth  to  the  hearts  of  all.  Besides,  this 
is  the  vice  which  breaks  out  soonest  in  us.  There 
are  some  that  lie  dormant  in  children  for  a  greater 
or  less  length  of  time ;  pride,  on  the  contrary,  devel- 
ops itself  in  them  at  an  early  age,  and  sometimes  to 
an  extraordinary  degree.  There  are  some  children, 
already  at  ten  years  of  age  or  even  sooner,  literally 
prodigies  of  pride.  Sad  to  say,  virtue  itself  is  not 
safe  from  its  taint ;  like  a  gnawing  worm,  pride 
glides  secretly  into  the  purest  hearts,  spoiling  and 
corrupting  the  best  actions,  the  finest  virtues.  We 
sometimes  meet  souls  who  would  be  great,  who 
would  be  noble,  who  have  love  and  zeal  for  the  good, 
the  beautiful ;  but  pride,  which  is  at  the  bottom  of 
these  souls,  breathes  over  them  a  mischievous  blast 
which  blights  all  their  charms. 

Plato  somewhere  says,  "  The  greatest  evil  of  man 
is  a  defect  that  is  born  with  him,  which  every  one 
excuses  in  himself,  and,  consequently,  which  no  one 
ever  labors  to  rid  himself  of ;  it  is  what  is  called  self- 
love."  Plato  knew  well  how  to  point  out  this  evil ; 
but  to  indicate  the  remedy,  and  especially  to  make 
acceptable  ^ the  radical  treatment  of  so  profound  an 
evil,  is  what  neither  Plato  nor  any  one  could  ever  do. 
Hoc  Plato  nescivit,  says  St.  Jerome.  Jesus  Christ 
has  done  it,  and  it  is  in  this  He  has  shown  Himself 
to  be  God  :  "  Learn  of  me  to  be  meek  and  humble  of 
heart."  Admirable  words  !  We  see  here  the  Divine 
Physician  at  once  putting  his  hand  precisely  on  the 
evil  place,  and  applying  the  remedy  to  the  sharpest 
wound  of  our  nature.  We  shall  soon  speak  of  all  these 
hideous  vices  which  pride  gives  birth  to  in  the  soul. 


132  THE    CHILD. 

Nevertheless,  nothing  is  more  difficult  to  be  observed 
and  well  defined  than  pride,  because  its  fecundity  is 
prodigious,  and  its  disguises  and  artifices  are  innu- 
merable. Sensual  from  its  foundation,  it  has  its  sub- 
tleties and  its  cunning  —  sometimes  the  most  un- 
heard-of refinements ;  it  conceals,  transforms  itself : 
it  is  at  once  the  most  prolific  and  most  deceitful  of 
defects ;  it  almost  always  clothes  itself  in  appear- 
ances which  are  but  so  many  wiles.  Thus  pride 
appears  firm  and  high,  and  it  is  most  frequently 
weak,  low,  frivolous,  restless.  It  appears  noble  and 
great,  and  at  bottom  is  base,  even  coarse.  Siiperbia 
non  est  niagniticdo,  sed  tumor,  says  St.  Augustine. 
Yes,  with  its  immoderate  pretensions,  it  has  incred- 
ible littleness ;  with  its  false  and  vain  greatness,  it 
falls  into  arrant  meanness.  Strange !  with  all  its 
artifices,  it  tends  to  delude  and  dupe  itself  especially ; 
it  wishes  to  impose  on  others,  and  most  frequently 
deceives  only  itself.  By  a  just  chastisement,  it  finds 
shame  where  it  wished  unduly  to  find  glory.  It  is 
because  pride  is  actually,  when  we  examine  it  to  the 
bottom,  when  we  scrutinize  well  its  nature,  founded 
on  a  lie ;  it  is  injustice,  it  is  even  lying.  In  veritate 
non  stetit,  say  the  Scriptures,  in  speaking  of  the 
first  of  the  proud,  and  the  prince  of  pride.  But  what, 
then,  is  pride  }  Pride,  says  the  catechism  —  we  can- 
not do  better  than  borrow  from  its  numerous  defini- 
tions—  is  an  esteem  and  ill-regulated  love  of  self, 
which  causes  one  to  prefer  himself  to  others,  and 
relate  everything  to  self,  and  nothing  to  God.  That 
is  evidently  supreme  injustice  in  a  being  who  is  noth- 
ing and  has  nothing  of  himself ;  or,  rather,  who  has 


pride;  its  nature.  133 

of  himself  only  miseries  too  real  by  the  side  of  the 
advantages  he  has  received  from  God,  and  which  he 
arrogates  to  himself  as  if  they  came  from  him  It 
is  an  arrogant  and  indecent  forgetfulness  of  the  foun- 
dation of  his  being,  which  is  all  borrowed,  and  re- 
mains in  everything  and  always  dependent  on  God. 
To  God  alone  belongs  all  glory ;  He  owes  it  to  Him- 
self, He  gives  it  to  Himself.  He  demands  it;  it  is 
due  to  Him  ;  and  to  wish  it  for  self  is  to  wish  for 
what  does  not  belong  to  self ;  it  is  to  ravish  from 
God  that  which  He  alone  merits ;  it  is  to  commit  a 
robbery,  a  real  sacrilege.  Pride  must  be  very  unjust, 
and  much  out  of  place,  in  a  created  and  dependent 
being,  since,  according  to  the  clever  and  sensible 
remark  of  Fenelon,  "pride  is  obliged  to  conceal 
itself,  and  can  only  escape  public  derision  by  seem- 
ing to  forget  itself."  To  be  actually  glorious  is  to 
be  vain.  Glory  is  only  admired  whilst  it  is  con- 
cealed, and  he  who  displays  it  is  odious  and  despised. 
Let  the  man  of  the  world,  otherwise  most  admirable, 
openly  demand  to  be  admired ;  let  him  ingenuously 
display  his  glory  —  he  becomes  the  plaything  of  those 
whose  admiration  he  would  have  if  he  did  not  ask 
it.  What,  then,  is  this  affair  so  disproportioned  to 
the  condition  of  man  that  he  cannot  be  forgiven  for 
pretending  openly  to  it  ?  Such  a  pretension  feels  in 
itself  the  need  of  dissimulation ;  falsehood,  which  is 
so  odious  and  contemptible  in  every  other  matter,  is 
the  only  means  of  making  pride  endurable ;  and  the 
simplicity,  which  is  everywhere,  else  amiable,  be- 
comes here  odious  and  ridiculous.  It  is  because 
pride  is  not  in  its  place  in  the  creature ;  it  is  because 


134  "THE    CHILD. 

every  one  instinctively  feels  that  it  is  there  misplaced 
and  unjust.  And  again,  on  this  account,  it  is,  and 
appears,  indecent.  Yes,  there  is  a  decency,  because 
there  is  a  justice,  in  modesty,  in  humility;  and  there 
is  an  indecency  in  pride,  because  there  is  an  injus- 
tice and  a  usurpation  in  it.  Modesty  is  the  bashful- 
ness  of  the  soul;  pride  is  the  incontinence  of  it.  A 
proud  soul  is  a  soul  which  no  longer  contains  itself. 
Hence  the  affinities  of  concupiscence  of  the  mind, 
of  pride,  with  shameful  concupiscence.  Modesty, 
purity  of  soul  and  body,  consists  in  containing  itself, 
in  maintaining  the  dignity  of  self.  Pride,  vanity, 
self-love,  like  immodesty,  consists  in  not  containing 
itself,  not  respecting  itself,  in  flattering,  in  miserably 
worshiping  self.  Pride  is,  then,  the  ostentation,  the 
immodesty,  the  impudence,  the  incontinence,  of  the 
mind;  as  impurity  is  the  impudence,  the  immodesty, 
the  incontinence,  and  in  a  manner  the  pride,  of  the 
the  body.  Pride  is  likewise  a  shameful  vice  ;  it  must 
be  blushed  for  like  the  others  ;  one  may  feel  the 
temptations  of  both  in  spite  of  himself,  but  he  must 
blush  for  them.  And  for  this  reason  it  is  a  vice  so 
abhorred  and  odious.  Pascal  has  said,  "  Self  is  hate- 
ful ; "  self,  that  is  to  say,  the  pride  which  sees  but 
self,  thinks  but  of  self,  which  is  occupied  only  with 
self,  which  refers  everything  to  self.  God  and  men 
have  a  horror  of  it ;  and  the  punishments  which  God 
reserves  for  it  prove  how  culpable  it  is ;  they  are 
sometimes  frightful.  It  is  related  that  a  thunderbolt, 
having  one  day  secretly  struck  a  column  in  a  church, 
kindled  there  a  hidden  fire,  which  in  course  of  time 
became  a  terrible  conflagration,  and  ended  by  leading 


THE    SAD    FECUNDITY    OF    PRIDE.  I35 

to  a  dreadful  fall :  thus  it  is  with  the  chastisements 
of  pride,  —  they  are  often  strokes  of  lightning. 
Pride  is  in  itself  its  own  terrible  chastisement ;  the 
haughty  soul  is  sufficiently  punished  through  the 
evils  that  pride  gives  birth  to,  through  the  vices  of 
which  it  is  the  father.  We  are  now  going  to  say  a 
few  words  on  this  subject. 

II. 

TJie  sad  Fecundity  of  Pride, 

There  is  really  cause  for  being  frightened  when  we 
consider  the  long  train  of  defects,  vices,  and  crimes, 
which  pride  engenders.  Nevertheless,  it  is  right 
and  necessary  to  study,  and  cause  to  be  closely 
studied,  this  grievous  spectacle.  It  is  the  best 
means  of  inspiring  in  young  people  hatred  of  a  vice 
which  is  but  too  much  allied  with  the  frivolity  and 
presumption  of  their  age,  and  to  give  them  the  en- 
ergy and  courageous  will  indispensable  for  combating 
and  triumphing  over  it.  Whosoever  believes  himself 
pure  from  all  pride  deludes  himself  greatly.  There 
is  a  very  simple  and  safe  proceeding  by  which  one  can 
recoo^nize  this  vice  in  himself  or  others  :  let  him  re- 
gard  the  conduct  and  the  acts  ;  let  him  examine  if  he 
cannot  discover  some  fruit  of  this  pride  ;  it  is  easily 
seen :  most  certainly,  then,  the  root  is  there,  and 
deep  and  flourishing  in  proportion  as  the  fruits  are 
more  abundant  and  more  evil.  Firstly,  disobedience, 
that  is  to  say,  the  want  of  submission  to  the  orders 
of  lawful  superiors,  or  revolt  against  the  direction 
and  advice  of  those  whose  office  it  is  to  guide  us ; 


136  THE    CHILD. 

from  whence  does  it  proceed,  if  not  from  pride  ? 
One  wishes  to  have  only  his  own  will  for  rule ;  he 
believes  himself  superior  to  every  one,  and  perfectly 
capable  of  governing  himself;  hence  he  counts  as 
nothing  the  wisest  and  most  legitimately  established 
authority.  In  a  house  of  education  it  is  the  over- 
throw of  all  rule,  all  discipline,  all  respect.  Educa- 
tion essentially  supposes  docility.  It  is  evident  that 
a  child,  a  young  man,  has  need  of  being  guided. 
No  man  has  every  light,  every  experience,  all  sense, 
of  himself  alone ;  but  especially  a  young  man  — 
what  light,  what  experience,  what  knowledge,  can  he 
have  }  No  :  whosoever  in  early  age  believes  himself 
capable  of  directing  himself,  is  averse  to  submission, 
rebels  against  obedience,  is  manifestly  tainted  with 
an  intolerable  pride,  of  which,  alas !  he  will  be  the 
first  victim.  Teachers  of  youth,  impress  well  on 
your  pupils  that  it  is  necessary,  during  the  whole  of 
life,  to  distrust  self,  to  accept  advice,  to  respect 
authority.  Never  has  the  following  speech  come 
from  the  mouth  of  a  sensible  man,  "  I  know  what  I 
have  to  do,  and  do  not  need  the  advice  of  any  one ; " 
but  when  a  young  man,  a  child,  uses  this  language, 
it  is  a  great  pity  and  a  great  misfortune.  No  doubt, 
in  a  house  of  education,  indocility  and  disobedience 
may  come  from  giddiness ;  we  should  then  be  more 
indulgent  in  its  repression.  But  when  they  proceed, 
as  most  frequently  happens,  from  pride,  oh  !  an  in- 
flexible firmness  is  necessary,  and  especially  to  at- 
tack this  disobedience  in  its  source,  that  is  to  say,  in 
pride.  Let  us  not  forget  that  it  is  always  pride  that 
must  be  striven  with  in  disobedient  children.     Pride 


THE    SAD    FECUNDITY    OF    PRIDE.  1 3/ 

has  Still  many  other  consequences :  violent  passions, 
hatreds,  sometimes  ferocious  revenges,  usually  have 
hardly  any  other  origin  than  pride.  In  an  inferior  de- 
gree, it  engenders  envy,  that  is  to  say,  the  base  sorrow 
one  feels  at  the  well-being  of  his  neighbor;  jealousy, 
which  drives  him  to  the  wish  of  dispossessing  him 
of  his  wealth,  in  order  to  enjoy  it  in  his  place,  and 
torments  him  with  regret  for  remaining  deprived  of 
it.  Pride  likewise  inspires  one  with  pleasure  at  the 
misfortunes  of  another,  a  secret  intention  to  injure 
him,  scandal,  and  calumnies;  these  are  so  many 
hateful  impulses  of  the  heart  against  every  superior- 
ity that  wounds  and  humiliates  us ;  it  is,  at  least,  a 
malignant  delight  in  what  procures  the  abasement  of 
others,  and  in  that  way  seems  to  elevate  us.  Every 
time  that  a  man  discovers  in  his  heart,  or  the  heart 
of  others,  any  one  of  these  evil  shoots,  he  may  be 
certain  that  pride  is  there ;  bitter  root  of  bitter 
fruit :  Radix  amaritiidinis.  When  this  pride  has 
another  offensive  passion,  such  as  the  eager  love  of 
gain,  of  money,  as  an  auxiliary,  the  amount  of  self- 
forgetfulness,  insolence,  ingratitude,  or  crimes,  it 
may  inspire,  is  incredible.  The  portrait  of  envy,  of 
jealousy,  has  many  times  been  drawn,  La  git  la  som- 
bre envie,  a  V xil  t'nnide  et  loitchete ;  they  can  never 
be  depicted  so  base,  so  odious,  as  they  really  are, 
especially  in  youth ;  for  they  have  much  less  right  to 
be  among  young  people  than  among  men.  They  be- 
come particularly  wretched ;  they  destroy  sincere 
and  pure  friendships,  they  pervert  and  poison  noble 
and  fruitful  emulation ;  they  substitute  for  the  gen- 
erous sentiments  of    this  age  a  bitter  gall,  a  sharp 


138  THE    CHILD, 

rancor ;  they  narrow  hearts  that  would  require 
expansion ;  they  depress  souls  which  would  need 
elasticity.  Besides,  it  is  difficult  to  attack  this  un- 
happy passion  directly,  because  it  dissimulates  as 
long  as  it  can  ;  nothing  is  more  vile  in  the  heart, 
nothing  more  painful  to  point  out.  How,  then,  com- 
bat it  ?  To  souls  debased  in  this  manner  by  a  sad 
pride  it  is  necessary  to  show  all  the  nobleness  of  a 
brave  emulation,  the  sweetness  of  a  loyal  friendship, 
and  the  duty  of  great  Christian  charity.  It  is  neces- 
sary to  inspire  them  with  kindness  of  heart  also ; 
for  pride  is  the  great  enemy  to  kindness  of  heart. 
Pride  is  positively  wicked.  It  is  hard,  tyrannical, 
violent,  cruel.  It  needs  a  victim,  which  it  torments 
for  its  pleasure.  It  loves  stinging  raillery,  mockery, 
sarcasm ;  it  delights  in  tears  ;  as  it  increases,  it  will 
love  blood.  I  have  said  somewhere  that  children  are 
naturally  wicked ;  it  is  especially  of  proud  children 
that  this  must  be  said.  Children  in  whom  pride  pre- 
dominates do  not  respond  to  affection ;  they  refer 
everything  to  themselves ;  they  admire  nothing ; 
they  do  not  love :  if  they  sometimes  appear  to  love 
a  master,  it  is  because  this  master  flatters  them. 
They  seem  to  love  their  parents,  but  only  while  they 
receive  presents  from  them.  In  truth,  they  are  pro- 
foundly ungrateful.  It  is  necessary  to  speak  to  them 
frequently  of  the  great  and  beautiful  virtue  of  grati- 
tude —  to  make  them  sensible  of  the  nobleness,  the 
sacred  duty  of  it ;  to  brand  before  them  ingratitude ; 
to  point  out  to  them  the  baseness,  the  disgrace,  and 
the  blackness  of  it  sometimes.  On  all  that  they 
must  be  spoken  to  plainly,  without  sparing  them ;  I 


THE    SAD    FECUNDITY    OF    PRIDE.  1 39 

would  even  say  it  is  necessary  not  to  use  delicacy. 
Experience  has  taught  me  that  such  children  have 
no  delicacy,  and,  grossly  blind  to  themselves,  they  do 
not  understand  it.  Let  us  continue  this  sorrowful 
enumeration.  The  desires,  the  ardent  dreams,  of 
greatness,  of  glory,  of  renown,  more  precocious, 
more  frequent,  than  is  supposed  among  children,  in 
a  word,  foolish  ambition,  also  reveal  a  heart  given  up 
to  pride.  He  whose  mind  relishes  the  name  of 
learned,  of  great  orator,  of  great  man ;  he  who 
dreams  of  pompous  titles,  ideas  of  honors,  of  bril- 
liant dignities,  in  his  future,  —  may,  without  fear  of 
error,  be  warned  that  he  should  suspect  himself  of 
pride.  The  danger  of  such  dreams  is  great  beyond 
measure.  These  desires  soon  dissolve,  leaving  in 
the  heart  a  depth  of  grievous  vexation  or  blind 
hatred,  which*  at  least  poisons  life,  and  frequently 
breaks  out  in  a  terrible  manner.  In  the  sad  times 
which  we  live  in,  this  disposition  of  mind  is  particu- 
larly dangerous.  The  impulse  which  has  precipi- 
tated so  many  young  souls  into  anti-social  Utopias 
has  very  often  had  for  starting-point  and  origin  the 
disappointments  of  a  precocious,  ardent,  and  mis- 
taken ambition.  Perspicacious  masters,  those  who 
do  not  rest  on  their  present  foresight,  but  think  of  the 
future,  should  regard  it  very  attentively.  Again,  it 
is  very  necessary  to  mention  anger — impetuous 
emotion  of  the  soul,  which  prompts  it  to  repulse 
with  violence  all  that  displeases  it.  Abuse  and  im- 
precations, daughters  of  anger,  are  the  outbursts  of 
a  pride  which  can  no  longer  be  cautious,  which  be- 
comes   exasperated   against   that   which  wounds  it, 


140  THE    CHILD. 

and  seeks  at  every  expense  a  brutal  superiority. 
Likewise  all  these  defects,  which  sometimes  so  sadly 
disfigure  the  best  dispositions,  and  suddenly  place, 
as  it  were,  a  veil  of  ugliness  over  the  face  of  the 
child  who  gives  himself  up  to  them,  —  pouting,  mur- 
muring, impoliteness,  churlishness,  insolent  answers, 
—  what  are  they  but  the  proud  rebellion  of  a  mind 
which  considers  itself  above  propriety,  and  does  not 
wish  to  acknowledge  its  errors  or  weaknesses  .'*  and 
what  is  more  common  in  a  house  of  education .'' 
How  many  children  lose  the  fruit  of  their  excellent 
qualities,  draw  upon  themselves  bitter  anger,  merited 
reprimands,  and,  what  is  much  worse,  prepare  for 
themselves  in  real  life  a  deplorable  future !  Vanity, 
which  is  an  ill-regulated  desire  for  esteem  and  praise ; 
ostentation,  which  prompts  us  to  display  the  wealth 
and  talents  we  possess ;  presumption,  which  gives 
us  too  conceited  an  idea  of  ourselves,  and  causes  us 
to  say  more  than  becomes  us,  undertake  more  than 
we  can  perform  ;  haughtiness,  arrogance,  even  ill- 
temper, —  are  the  well-known  daughters  of  pride.  A 
clear-sighted  master  will  immediately  point  out  to 
him  who  falls  into  these  different  faults  the  vice  with 
which  he  is  tainted.  But  that  which  young  people 
do  not  sufficiently  know,  and  have  great  need  of 
knowing,  is  the  fatal  consequences  of  all  these  de- 
fects, born  of  pride.  For  example,  how  many  things, 
at  the  least  ridiculous,  and  frequently  dangerous  and 
culpable,  do  not  vanity  and  ostentation  cause  young 
people,  and  even  men,  to  do  and  say !  Again,  to 
speak  only  of  the  vain  searching  after  adornment, 
the  imprudent  indiscretion  of  speech  among  young 


THE    SAD    FECUNDITY    OF    PRIDE.  I4I 

people  — from  whence  do  they  come  ?  Will  you  say 
that  the  exaggerated  care  of  his  toilet  and  of  his 
person  is  but  frivolity,  and  of  no  great  consequence 
in  a  young  man  ?  Such  would  be  a  serious  error.  It 
is  something  more  than  the  indication  of  an  empty 
head  and  little  mind.  All  those  who  have  experience 
of  young  people  know  that  virtue  itself,  in  all  that  is 
most  essential  to  it,  is  compromised  by  these  misera- 
ble futilities,  which  develop  in  a  young  man  tastes, 
habits  of  mind  and  character,  incompatible  with  the 
generous  energy,  the  solid  sense,  and  bashful  reserve, 
without  which  virtue  cannot  be  maintained. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  Fenelon,  who  saw  clearly 
the  danger  of  it  in  youth,  did  not  fail  to  anticipate 
and  attack  this  species  of  vanity  and  foolish  pride. 
He  says,  **  It  is  true,  we  may  seek  neatness,  suita- 
bility, and  decency  in  the  clothes  necessary  for  cov- 
ering our  bodies ;  but,  after  all,  these  stuffs  which 
cover  us  can  never  become  a  vain  and  affected  orna- 
ment. A  young  man  who  loves  to  adorn  himself 
foolishly,  like  a  woman,  is  unworthy  of  wisdom  and 
glory."  The  faults  which  ostentation  and  the  frivo- 
lous desire  of  making  one's  self  valuable  cause,  dur- 
ing life,  are  innumerable.  Blinded,  and  at  the  same 
time  intoxicated,  one  loses  his  discernment ;  he  no 
longer  understands  the  bearing  of  words ;  he  does 
not  suspect  their  snares ;  he  compromises  himself, 
delivers  himself  up  to  them, — he  loses  himself. 

Fenelon,  that  great  master,  who  has  so  profoundly 
fathomed  all  the  recesses  of  the  heart,  understood 
well  the  gravity  of  this  danger  for  young  people ; 
and  we  are  sensible,  from  the  manner  in  which  he 


142  THE    CHILD. 

speaks  of  it,  how  much  he  had  been  struck  by  it. 
There  is  an  admirable  passage  of  his,  which  I  have 
frequently  brought  under  the  notice  of  my  pupils, 
and  in  which  this  peril  is  pointed  out  with  surprising 
perspicacity :  *'  Seduced  by  adroit  praise,  the  son  of 
Ulysses  allowed  himself  to  go  on  making  a  long 
recital  of  his  adventures,  and  in  this  recital  he  told 
all;  he  could  not  be  silent  on  anything;  hence  he 
cast  himself  into  frightful  danger,  which  his  master 
saw  well,  but  of  which  he  himself  had  not  even  the 
slightest  idea.  As  soon  as  they  were  alone.  Mentor 
hastened  to  make  him  observe  it.  *  The  pleasure  of 
recounting  your  adventures,'  said  he  to  him,  *  has 
carried  you  away ;  you  have  charmed  the  goddess  in 
explaining  to  her  the  dangers  from  which  your  cour- 
age and  industry  have  drawn  you ;  hence  you  have 
only  prepared  for  yourself  a  more  dangerous  captiv- 
ity. The  love  of  vain-glory  has  caused  you  to  speak 
without  prudence.  She  has  engaged  you  in  recount- 
ing these  histories,  to  learn  from  you  what  has  been 
the  fate  of  Ulysses ;  she  has  found  means  of  speak- 
ing a  long  time  without  saying  anything ;  and  she 
has  drawn  you  into  explaining  to  her  all  she  wished 
to  know :  such  is  the  art  of  a  flattering  and  impas- 
sioned woman.  When,  O  Telemachus !  will  you  be 
sufficiently  wise  never  to  speak  through  vanity,  and 
when  will  you  know  how  to  keep  silent  on  all  that  is 
profitable  to  you  when  it  is  not  beneficial  to  speak .? 
Another  time,  learn  to  speak  more  soberly  of  all  that 
can  attract  praise  for  you.'  " 

I    have   not   yet   said   anything   of   susceptibility, 
which  does  not,  like  vanity  or  ostentation,  seek  for 


THE    SAD    FECUNDITY    OF    PRIDE.  I43 

praise,  but  which  becomes  offended  with  the  sHghtest 
reproach,  the  least  suspicion ;  it  is  a  false  tenderness 
for  one's  self  which  denotes  scarcely  less  of  pride. 
There  are  some  children,  some  natures,  which  are 
truly  sensitive ;  we  cannot  give  them  a  warning,  ad- 
dress to  them  a  reprimand,  or  the  mildest  advice, 
without  their  becoming  grieved,  shocked,  or  irritated. 
At  the  least  word  from  a  schoolfellow  or  a  master 
you  will  see  them  redden  or  grow  pale.  We  feel  that 
there  is  in  them  a  chord  on  which  the  hand  must  not 
be  put ;  a  tender  spot  which  must  not  be  touched 
even  with  the  point  of  the  finger.  The  education  of 
children  with  such  a  disposition  is  much  to  be 
dreaded,  and  the  correction  of  their  faults  is  ren- 
dered extremely  difficult.  We  can  only  arrive  at  re- 
claiming young  natures  so  susceptible  by  prudently 
and  mildly  urging  them  on  to  the  end.  There  is  still 
another  species  of  minds  among  whom  the  suscep- 
tibilities of  pride  are  somewhat  singular.  They  are 
men  who  seem  to  be  in  the  world  only  to  save  ap- 
pearances. They  value  but  the  stamp.  Frivolous 
at  heart,  serious  only  in  the  exterior,  they  can  judge 
gravely,  but  only  surface-deep ;  people  whose  char- 
acter, through  their  weakness  and  fanaticism  for  de- 
corum, becomes  lowered  by  the  glance  of  an  eye. 
This,  again,  is  a  grievous  kind  of  pride.  Lying, 
which  disguises  a  painful  truth  ;  cupidity,  which  is 
never  satisfied  with  what  it  has ;  and  especially 
harshness  to  the  little  and  poor,  to  servants,  to  every 
one  with  whom  we  have  dealings  and  who  are  be- 
neath us,  and  a  thousand  other  defects  of  this  kind, 
may  be  all  referred  to  pride.     Everywhere  it  is  love 


144  THE    CHILD. 

of  self,  egotism ;  it  is  self  which  rules ;  self  to 
which  all  is  sacrificed  ;  self  which  is  adored.  Hypoc- 
risy, which  wishes  to  conceal  under  a  mantle  of 
honor  the  shameful  passions  that  devour  it,  is  also  a 
daughter  of  pride.  The  proud  hypocrite  is,  of  all, 
the  most  to  be  dreaded.  Again,  it  must  be  said  that 
pride  is  the  father  of  increduUty,  apostasy,  impiety ; 
this  is,  alas !  too  well  known.  If  a  man  no  longer 
believes  in  religion,  or  pretends  to  no  longer  believe 
in  it,  it  is  from  one  of  two  causes,  —  either  because 
he  elevates  his  weak  reason  above  everything,  he  wor- 
ships it ;  or  more  frequently,  especially  in  youth,  he 
gives  way  to  the  petty  vanity,  still  more  contempti- 
ble, of  wishing  to  distinguish  himself  from  the  crowd, 
and  appear  strong-minded.  Qicomodo  potestis  credere, 
says  our  Lord,  vos  qui  gloriam  ab  invincem  accipitis  f 
Profound  and  terrible  words  of  Him  who  scrutinizes 
the  thoughts  and  hearts  of  men. 

In  a  house  of  Christian  education,  doubts  against 
faith  are  frequently  enough  caused  by  pride  and  van- 
ity, or  the  cowardliness  of  human  respect.  As  soon 
as  a  young  man  becomes  proud,  you  may  be  certain 
his  faith  is  in  jeopardy;  and,  if  you  wish  to  save  his 
faith,  hasten  to  use  a  remedy  for  pride.  This  incre- 
dulity through  pride,  pitiful  even  in  a  grown  man,  is 
truly  a  misery  without  name  in  a  young  man,  who 
knows  nothing,  and  can  know  nothing ;  who  ima- 
gines that  he  contains  more  wisdom  in  his  little  head 
than  the  greatest  minds  of  the  world,  who  have  be- 
lieved with  pleasure.  It  is,  more  especially,  this 
foolish  incredulity  of  the  young  that  Bossuet  strikes 
with  terrible  ridicule :    '*  What  have  they  seen,  these 


THE    SAD    FECUNDITY    OF    PRIDE.  I45 

uncommon  geniuses  ? "  In  fine,  it  must  be  said  that 
impurity,  though  it  may  be  the  immediate  fruit  of 
effeminacy,  is  also  very  often  the  fruit  of  pride, 
tJiroiLgJi  cJiastisement. 

God  punishes  pride,  in  deHvering  it  up  to  ignomin- 
ious passions.  Tradidit  illos  in passiones  ig^iominice, 
says  St.  Paul.  Experience  offers  proofs  of  this,  as 
unexceptionable  as  sorrowful.  A  director  of  souls, 
a  priest  charged  with  bringing  up  youth,  cannot  be 
ignorant  of  this  great  danger  from  pride.  When  he 
sees  pride  increase  in  a  child,  in  a  young  man,  other- 
wise pious  and  regular,  let  him  tremble  for  this 
menaced  virtue,  and  let  him  warn  him  of  it ;  terrible 
falls  are  not  far  off,  if  pride  be  persisted  in.  Such 
is,  in  part  —  for  we  have  not  spoken  of  all,  we  cannot 
speak  of  all  —  the  fatal  and  disgraceful  generation  of 
defects  that  pride  gives  birth  to.  The  chief  point  is 
to  know  all  that  well ;  for  it  is  the  key  to  the  science 
of  morals.  Pride  is  the  most  profound,  the  most  an- 
cient, the  most  universal,  the  most  grievously  fruitful, 
malady  of  our  fallen  nature  ;  it  is  the  generating  prin- 
ciple of  evil  in  us.  To  be  ignorant  of  it,  or  to  know 
it  but  imperfectly,  would  necessarily  have  the  most 
fatal  consequences.  But  to  know  it  in  an  abstract 
manner  is  not  sufficient;  not  to  recognize  in  one's 
self  this  vice,  and  its  ramifications  so  multiplied,  the 
unmentionable  detail  of  faults  of  which  it  is,  every 
moment  in  life,  the  unhappy  origin,  would  be  a 
deplorable  blindness.  Pride  is  so  fertile  in  poisons 
for  our  poor  mind  and  our  sad  heart,  we  may  say 
with  truth,  that  humility  alone  —  its  antidote  —  could 
restore  good  sense  and  virtue  to  human  nature. 
13 


146  THE   CHILD, 

However  long  the  enumeration  we  are,  making  may 
already  be,  it  is,  nevertheless,  very  incomplete ;  noth- 
ing less  than  an  entire  moral  treatise,  embracing  the 
highest  questions  of  psychology,  society,  family,  re- 
ligion, even  of  politics,  would  be  necessary  to  com- 
plete it.  However,  before  leaving  this  subject,  we 
wish  to  speak  again  of  the  four  kinds  of  evil  spirits 
that  pride  is  the  source  of,  and  one  or  other  of  which 
frequently  stains  the  best  composed  characters,  the 
purest  virtues,  and,  in  a  house  of  Christian  educa- 
tion, the  most  pious  children. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ON    THE    FOUR   KINDS    OF     EVIL    SPIRITS    W^ICH    PRIDE 
IS    FATHER    TO. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  spirit  of  indociHty.  In- 
docility  is  not  disobedience ;  it  is  more  and  lew  A 
child  can  be  very  indocile  in  obeying.  Indocir^  (in 
the  sense  of  the  Latin  word,  mdocilis,  which  does 
not  permit  of  explanation)  means  that  one  is  full  of 
confidence  in  his  own  lights,  and  has  no  confidence 
in  the  lights  of  others.  He  has  no  faith  in  any  one. 
He  respects  not  the  mind,  the  authority,  of  any  one. 
Indocility  is  still  less  in  the  exterior  act  than  in  the 
interior  disposition,  in  the  mind  and  in  the  heart ; 
for  this  reason  the  Scripture  says,  Cor  malum  incre- 
diditatis. 

The  immediate  inconvenience  of  this  spirit  of  in- 
docility is  to  deprive  the  indocile  young  man  of  the 
lights  of  those  who,  by  their  knowledge,  wisdom,  ex- 
perience, and  devotion,  are  called  to  be  his  guides ; 
of  leaving  him  to  walk  alone  and  unsupported,  ex- 
posed to  all  the  falls  which  his  vanity  and  inexpe- 
rience will  not  fail  to  meet  occasions  of ;  and  causing 
him  to  waste,  in  unprofitable  attempts  or  ruinous 
trials,  time  or  faculties,  the  fruits  of  which  would 
have  been,  perhaps,  otherwise  precocious  and  cer- 
tain.    And,  hence,  what    misfortunes  later  in  life! 

U7 


148  THE    CHILD. 

what  a  source  of  numberless  faults,  and  how  impor- 
tant to  prevent  these  misfortunes  by  docility  in 
youth !  how  many  talents  become  sterile,  how  many 
become  even  fatal,  how  many  happy  natures  pine 
away,  how  many  fall  into  evil,  in  consequence  of 
this  secret  pride,  which  renders  them  indocile  to  the 
lessons  oL  authority,  experience,  superiority,  devo- 
tion, and  closes  beforehand  every  path  to  wise  ad- 
vice !  for  who  will  venture  on  exposing  himself  to 
give  advice,  the  inutility  of  which  he  foresees  ? 
Wel^I  should  say  this  terrible  indocility  is  the 
gre  Jevil  of  Christian  youth. 

The  youth  of  the  age  is  grossly  disobedient ;  pious 
youth  is  sometimes  profoundly  indocile.  Innate 
pride  is  to  be  found  among  all  men  under  the  form 
of  self-esteem,  disguised,  perhaps,  but  deep-seated, 
and  which  gives  birth  to  a  surprising  spirit  of  resist- 
ance. It  is  the  chief  point  to  understand  in  educa- 
tion ;  and  a  man  should  not  make  education  his  oc- 
cupation if  he  does  not  understand  that. 

The  second  kind  of  spirit  that  we  wish  to  point 
out,  as  a  consequence  of  pride,  is  the  spirit  of  inde- 
pendence. This  is  not,  like  the  preceding  one,  at- 
tachment to  one's  own  lights ;  it  is  attachment  to 
one's  own  will ;  a  very  subtle  defect,  clever  at  dis- 
guising itself,  even  under  a  virtuous  exterior.  There 
is  something  flattering  for  a  soul  in  being  able  to  say 
of  itself,  ''What  I  will,  I  will  firmly."  Without 
doubt,  that  is  fine ;  but  it  may  serve  to  conceal  the 
most  unreasonable  obstinacy  and  an  unbridled  pride. 
A  person  is  not  firm  because  he  does  not  yield  even 
to  the  reasonable  and  lawful  will  of  others,  and  be- 


THE    FOUR    KINDS    OF    EVIL    SPIRITS,    ETC.  I49 

cause  he  wishes  to  make  his  own  will  triumphant 
everywhere ;  he  is  but  stiff-necked  and  imperious. 
Besides,  this  pretended  firmness  frequently  conceals 
a  real  weakness ;  it  is  evident  more  strength  is 
necessary  for  ruling  one's  self,  and  bending  sponta- 
neously to  reasonable  advice,  in  spite  of  the  conquer- 
ing resistances  of  pride,  than  hardening  one's  self  in 
a  vain  and  foolish  haughtiness.  It  is  a  great  misfor- 
tune for /U  ^cieU^  w^en  this  spirit  of  indepei^cjence 
prevails,  w-nen  no  olie  can  give  up  hjj^^wnkyilL  in^ 
order  to  place  himself  under  that  of  others.  Notli- 
ing  is  more  specially  dangerous  than  to  bring  such  a 
spirit  into  the  Church.  It  is,  nevertheless,  the  evil 
of  the  age;  and,  sad  to  say,  —  what  should  arouse  the 
most  serious  attention  of  the  directors  of  seminaries, 
—  ecclesiastics  themselves  are  not  exempt  from  it;  it 
is  the  air  we  breathe,  and  in  which  we  live ;  one  is  natu- 
rally more  independent  to-day,  at  twenty  years  of  age, 
than  he  was  at  fifty  under  Louis  XIII.  Whosoever  is 
still  ignorant  of  this  disposition  of  the  youth  of  our 
day  is  not  capable  of  being  beneficial  to  it.  But  it 
is  for  skilled  Christian  education  to  re-act  energet- 
ically against  this  detestable  spirit,  which  now 
breathes  everywhere,  and,  more  or  less,  inspires  all 
youth  ;  it  is  for  education  to  combat  with  and  replace 
it  by  the  noble  and  generous  docility  which  so  well 
becomes  young  people,  especially  those  formed  in  the 
school  of  religion. 

The  spirit  of  contradiction  is  the  third  kind  of  evil 
spirit  engendered  by  pride.     It  is  a  whim  ;   a  most 
disagreeable  mania.     The  spirit  of  contradiction  ren- 
ders a  man  unendurable  to  every  one.     There  are 
13* 


150  THE    CHILD. 

some  minds  so  constructed,  nothing  can  be  said  be- 
fore them  that  they  will  not  support  the  opposite  of 
it ;  they  would  believe  themselves  without  character 
if  they  agreed  with  the  opinions  of  others.  Some- 
times it  is  an  inexpressibly  mistaken  love  of  truth, 
an  unseasonable  frankness,  a  puerile  simplicity, 
which  never  sees  the  inconvenience  of  speaking  its 
mind ;  it  is  still  more  frequently  a  secret  pride  and  a 
foolish  self-sufficiency.  Such  minds  believe  them- 
selves obliged  to  contradict  at  once  everything  that 
does  not  agree  with  their  views ;  they  become  infat- 
uated in  their  ideas,  and  we  see  them  unceasingly, 
with  a  ridiculous  pertinacity,  become  stubborn  in  in- 
terminable and  sterile  discussions.  Nevertheless, 
into  what  errors  are  they  not  frequently  drawn  from 
having  embraced,  without  knowing  well  why,  and 
only  for  the  sake  of  contradiction,  some  opinion 
which  afterwards  they  have  not  the  courage  to  aban- 
don !  This  mania  of  contradiction  is  most  frequently 
caused  by  a  little  mind  puffed  up  with  pride. 

A  superior  man,  with  a  truly  noble  heart,  does  not 
hesitate,  as  soon  as  he  perceives  his  error,  to  adopt 
boldly  an  opinion,  the  justness  of  which  he  had  not, 
at  first,  quite  seen,  though,  by  so  doing,  he  should 
lose  the  opportunity  of  displaying  his  resources  in 
discussion,  and  condemn  himself  to  silence.  In  any 
case,  he  will  never  dispute  for  the  love  of  disputing, 
and  he  will  have  the  politeness,  as  well  as  good  sense, 
to  allow  many  things  to  pass  which  there  would  be 
more  inconvenience  in  raising  than  in  neglecting. 

To  find  a  name  for  the  fourth  kind  of  spirit  pro- 
duced by  pride,  we  are  obliged  to  call  it  —  if  we  may 


THE    FOUR    KINDS    OF    EVIL    SPIRITS,    ETC.         I5I 

use  the  expression  —  the  spirit  of  justification.  It  is 
the  mania  of  always  justifying  one's  self;  of  excus- 
ing one's  self,  ever  and  anon,  right  or  wrong;  of 
never  being  willing  to  admit  a  fault :  volens  jiistifi- 
care  se  ipsiim ;  like  the  Pharisee  in  the  Gospel. 
There  are  some  young  people  whom  we  can  never 
bring  to  admit  their  most  evident  faults ;  they  will 
say  they  believe  themselves  impeccable ;  and  if  they 
fall  into  any  material,  flagrant  faults,  impossible  to 
be  denied,  they  are  always  perfectly  innocent  in  in- 
tention. Their  first  thought,  as  soon  as  we  make  a 
remark  to  them  or  approach  them,  is  to  seek  any 
excuse  whatsoever,  and  afterwards  they  stick  obsti- 
nately to  it.  They  are  right  beforehand ;  they  do 
not  even  examine  if  what  is  said  to  them  has  a  foun- 
dation ;  they  combat  it  all  at  once.  Nothing  betrays 
more  of  secret  pride  than  such  a  disposition,  and,  I 
will  even  say,  nothing  is  more  calculated  to  set  the 
mind  astray  and  narrow  the  heart.  A  just  mind, 
aided  by  a  good,  simple,  honest  heart,  will  seek  out 
the  true  side  of  a  reproach,  and  what  foundation 
there  is  for  a  remark ;  hence  it  will  acquire  valuable 
knowledge  of  itself,  and  at  the  same  time  it  will,  by 
this  simplicity,  show  itself  superior  even  to  its  fault. 
On  the  contrary,  the  mind  which  I  speak  of,  full  of 
pride  and  vanity,  closes  its  eyes  on  all  that  is  most 
certain  and  most  evident  in  its  faults,  and  becomes 
ingenious  in  imagining  reasons  for  its  exculpation  ; 
such  is  its  chief  solicitude,  its  first  impulse,  —  a  sure 
indication  of  a  little  mind  and  a  barren  heart.  It  is 
very  important  to  make  young  people,  tainted  with  this 
grievous  malady,  understand  well  that  this  sad  spirit 


152  THE    CHILD. 

of  justification  is  everything  that  is  most  miserable; 
and,  on  the  contrary,  how  honorable  and  glorious  is 
the  plain,  noble  avowal  of  a  fault.  The  first  thing 
that  an  upright  and  sincere  young  man  ought  to  ac- 
knowledge is,  that  at  no  age  are  we  more  exposed  to 
be  mistaken  in  a  thousand  ways  than  in  youth ;  and, 
consequently,  at  no  age,  also,  should  we  be  more  dis- 
posed to  allow  ourselves  to  be  reprehended  and  ad- 
monished. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

A    LAST    WORD     ON     THE     MANNER     OF     TREATING   THE 
PROUD. 

Certainly  we  do  not  think  we  have  spared  pride; 
and  after  what  we  have  said  —  though  we  may  not  have 
said  all —  if  pride  did  not  appear  to  an  upright  young 
man  supremely  dangerous  and  hateful,  it  would  be 
because  this  vice  still  exercised  over  his  heart  a  very 
powerful  fascination.  Yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten, 
that,  in  education,  the  obstacles  may  become  the 
means,"  and  that  it  shows  the  talent,  and  is  the  duty, 
of  the  person  educating,  to  convert  the  obstacles  into 
the  means.  Self-love,  perilous  as  it  is,  may  itself 
become  a  valuable  auxiliary.  It  is  a  devious  power, 
but  it  is  a  power ;  it  is  less  necessary  to  break  it  than 
to  direct  it.  Self-love  always  tends  to  flatter  and 
exalt  those  of  whom  it  has  possession ;  but  some- 
times these  excesses  themselves  are  evidences  of  a 
generous  nature,  capable  of  ascending  very  high,  if 
pride  did  not  frequently  cause  it  to  descend  so  low. 
What  is  necessary,  then,  is,  not  to  stifle  this  generos- 
ity of  nature,  this  haughtiness  of  soul,  but  to  take 
possession  of  and  rule  it.  It  deceives  itself,  not  in 
its  aim,  but  in  its  object.  Two  things  are  necessary 
to  draw  it  away  from  the  wretchedness  in  which  it  is 
being  caught  and  lost,  and  turn  it  towards  an  object 

153 


154  I'HE    CHILD. 

worthy  of  it  —  towards  its  real  object;  to  give  it  its 
food ;  point  out  its  end ;  in  fine,  to  take  possession 
of  it  for  good  and  great  deeds.  There  are,  then,  two 
ways  of  treating  self-love,  —  it  must  be  checked  at 
first,  and  then  roused ;  its  errors  must  be  repressed, 
and  its  energies  directed.  This  work  is  often  very 
delicate,  and  it  is  not,  and  cannot  be,  performed  in 
the  same  way  for  all  children.  Here,  as  is  always 
the  case,  the  complex  and  varied  nature  of  children 
requires  to  be  closely  observed ;  the  means  of  re- 
pression or  encouragement  should  be  well  adapted  to 
the  characters. 

There  is  a  self-love  that  it  is  necessary  to  know 
how  to  spare,  to  watch,  to  wait  for,  to  seize  only  at  a 
favorable  opportunity,  and  to  attack,  but  with  great 
precaution;  there  is  a  self-love  that  must. be  striven 
with  in  front,  and  without  sparing ;  stricken  as  soon 
as  it  displays  itself,  and  humiliated  even  to  the  dust. 
The  first  is  to  be  met  with  among  weak,  feeling, 
delicate  characters,  without  great  vigor  or  elasticity. 
A  direct,  harsh,  merciless  humiliation  would  dis- 
hearten and  break  them  ;  a  paternal  reprimand,  a 
friendly  advice,  firm  and  mild,  a  lesson  full  of  in- 
struction, will  humble  them,  but  will  permit  them  to 
raise  themselves  again.  The  other  species  of  self- 
love  is  to  be  met  with  among  energetic  and  strong 
characters,  and  it  starts  up  with  insolence  ;  the  sud- 
denness, the  harshness,  of  the  punishment  makes 
them  bow  down  the  head,  without,  however,  taking 
away  their  elasticity  and  their  courage.  Neverthe- 
less, even  there,  and  in  the  just  severity  of  the  most 
rigorous   reprimand,  it  is  necessary  to  let  them  see 


THE  MANNER  OF  TREATING  THE  PROUD.    1 55 

that  it  is  with  the  pride,  and  not  the  person,  that  we 
contend ;  otherwise  they  will  not  listen  to  anything ; 
they  will  become  hardened.  These  strong  natures 
are  frequently  accessible  to  tenderness ;  harsh,  vio- 
lent, without  regard,  and  without  respect,  while  they 
obey  pride,  they  will  recover,  when  pride  is  con- 
quered, and  when  urged  by  an  affectionate  word,  their 
natural  goodness. 

There  is  here  again,  as  always,  the  favorable  mo- 
ment to  be  seized ;  the  fitting  time  is  necessary  in 
point  of  correction  more  than  in  every  other  matter. 
Self-love,  which  is  so  afflicting  in  education,  so  deli- 
cate to  manage,  so  difficult  to  correct,  presents  other- 
wise, I  have  said,  occasions  of  which  it  is  easy  to 
make  great  use.  This  fiery  nature  may  not  accept  a 
reproach,  and,  indeed,  may  start  into  a  passion  when 
you  wish  to  repress  it.  Well,  without  ever  weaken- 
ing or  softening,  seek  for  and  find  the  opportunity 
of  animating  it  by  praise.  The  power  of  a  com- 
mendation suitably  given,  with  limits  and  delicacy, 
is  sometimes  surprising.  I  have  known  a  child  so 
full  of  vanity,  so  filled  with  himself,  so  impatient  of 
correction  and  of  obedience,  that,  at  the  least  remark 
or  command  from  his  tutor,  it  was  rare  when  he  did 
not  reply  at  once  with  insolence.  The  tutor,  who 
had  a  firm  hand,  chastised  him  on  the  moment,  by  a 
word  terrible  for  impassibility  and  truth,  with  a  calm 
but  inflexible  measure;  nevertheless,  -he  gained 
much  more,  he  managed  him  much  more  easily, 
when  praise  had  been  able  to  anticipate  the  repri- 
mand —  when,  during  the  morning,  he  had  been  able 
to  find  any  occasion  whatsoever,  sometimes  apropos 


156  THE    CHILD. 

of  nothing,  to  make  him,  with  moderation,  a  merited 
compUment.  Fenelon  recognizes  not  only  advan- 
tages in,  but  the  necessity  of,  treating  children  thus, 
and  he  recommends  giving  them  at  proper  times 
suitable  encouragement.  "  If,"  says  he,  "  we  never 
praise  children  when  they  do  well,  we  run  the  risk  of 
disheartening  them.  Though  it  may  be  feared  praise 
causes  vanity,  it  is  necessary  to  try  and  make  use  of 
it  to  animate  children  without  intoxicating  them. 
We  see  that  St.  Paul  frequently  employs  it  to  en- 
courage the  weak,  and  to  make  correction  pass  more 
mildly.  The  Fathers  have  made  the  same  use  of  it. 
It  is  true,  that,  to  render  it  beneficial,  it  must  be 
seasoned  in  such  a  manner  as  to  take  away  the  ex- 
aggeration, the  flattery,  of  it,  and  at  the  same  time 
refer  all  good  to  God,  as  the  source  of  it." 

Pride  is,  then,  a  passion  that  may  be  skilfully 
governed,  not  by  yielding  to  it,  but  in  a  manner  de- 
ceiving it  by  cleverly  and  calculatingly  caressing  it,  as 
we  caress  a  fiery  horse  with  the  hand  in  order  to  re- 
strain and  calm  him.  Again,  pride  is  a  passion  that 
it  is  possible  to  convert  into  a  noble  emulation  and 
generous  eagerness.  It  is  necessary  to  incite  youth  to 
good  and  great  deeds ;  to  fill  it  with  enthusiasm  and 
admiration ;  for  that,  it  is  important  to  know  what 
gives  pleasure  to  these  young  and  ardent  souls,  and 
win  them  by  means  of  that  which  they  love.  In 
general,  children  are  scarcely  sensible  of,  and  have 
little  admiration  for,  cold  and  solid  parts.  But  ex- 
traordinary, heroic,  valiant  deeds  please  them ;  bat- 
tles, missions,  martyrs,  great  conversions  of  souls, 
excite  their  admiration ;  and  this  enthusiasm  is  bene- 


THE  MANNER  OF  TREATING  THE  PROUD.    1 5/ 

ficial ;  for  this  reason  it  is  of  consequence  to  prompt 
them  to  it ;  when  they  find  this  noble  aliment  for  the 
fire  of  their  hearts,  it  is  no  longer  immersed  in 
wretchedness.  P'eats  of  strength,  agility  of  body, 
dexterity  at  games,  victory  in  racing,  also  fascinate 
them.  All  these  are  good,  without  danger,  and  con- 
sequently may  be  used,  and  become  excellent  as  di- 
verting remedies.  In  short,  there  is  an  art  in  train- 
ing self-love,  in  checking  it,  and  even  in  making  use 
of  it,  to  lead  to  good.  When  one  finds  himself  in 
face  of  a  proud,  indocile,  disrespectful  nature,  let 
him  calmly,  persistently,  zealously  study  every  form 
of  that  pride  ;  all  its  tints,  all  its  sallies,  all  its  whims, 
all  its  shadows ;  let  him  watch  attentively  every  mo- 
ment ;  let  him  apply  with  firmness  and  prudence 
every  remedy.  Such  natures  are  rarely  sterile  for 
good ;  they  may  give  way  to  terrible  excesses,  but 
they  are  also  capable  of  great  deeds.  There  is  in 
these  souls  a  seed  of  generosity,  and  it  is  a  great  re- 
source; this  seed  is  damaged,  impaired,  and,  out  of 
the  abundance  of  its  sap,  puts  forth  insolent  and 
haughty  shoots ;  but  the  sap  is  there,  the  germ  is 
there ;  it  must  be  purified,  ennobled ;  then  wonder- 
ful fruits  may  spring  up ;  and  it  is  the  duty  of  edu- 
cation to  do  everything  in  order  to  produce  them. 

As  a  termination  to  this  long  chapter,  permit  me 
to  place  here,  in  its  first  crudeness  and  warmth,  a 
note  given  by  me  to  a  very  young  professor,  carried 
away  and  unknowingly  ruined  by  pride,  and  who, 
frightened  by  the  danger  he  was  in,  one  day  sin- 
cerely asked  me  to  tell  him  the  whole  truth  respect- 
ing his  pride,  and  to  spare  him  in  nothing.     I  sent 


158  THE    CHILD. 

to  him  the  following  lines,  which  he  had  the  courage 
to  receive  and  meditate  on,  and  which  were  of  great 
benefit  to  his  soul.  "There  is,"  I  wrote  to  him,  '*a 
great  wound  in  your  soul  —  a  deep  wound  which  un- 
ceasingly enlarges.  You  sometimes  forget  it,  but  it 
is  there,  and  it  threatens  to  invade  everything  in 
your  soul  —  all  your  ideas,  all  your  sentiments,  all 
your  affections.  There  is  in  you  a  love  towards 
yourself  of  unmeasured  strength  ;  it  is  a  something 
unrestrained  which  rules  and  transports  you,  often 
unknown  to  you.  Nevertheless,  most  frequently  the 
wish  to  know  yourself  would  be  sufficient ;  but  you 
prefer  illusion.  You  have  a  horror  of  being  irritated 
by  your  fellow-professors  or  your  superior  ;  the  slight- 
est admonition  irritates  you,  raises  your  indignation 
to  an  extraordinary  point ;  it  is  frightful  to  see.  I 
have  sometimes  been  deeply  grieved  to  the  heart  by 
it.  To-day,  I  thank  God,  you  seek  for  His  light ; 
but  you  are  usually  not  in  earnest,  you  do  not  wish 
to  be  enlightened.  You  delude  yourself  on  defects 
that  you  find  intolerable  in  others.  You  hold  on  to 
your  strict  duty  only  by  a  tie  almost  forced.  Your 
love  for  yourself  inspires  in  you  a  secret  hate  of  the 
authority  of  others,  and  makes  you  exercise  your 
own  with  an  inflexible  harshness.  You  have  an  evi- 
dent and  secret  ambition.  You  love  distinctions, 
honors ;  the  least  of  them  puffs  you  up  ridiculously. 
On  the  other  hand,  you  beheve  yourself  called  to 
perfection ;  and  there  is  not  a  religious  congregation 
who  would  wish  to  keep  you  after  a  three-months' 
novitiate.  You  have  been  flattered  for  a  long  time ; 
you  are  no  longer  flattered  here  —  it  is  that  which 


THE  MANNER  OF  TREATING  THE  PROUD.    1 59 

you  cannot  endure.  I  repeat,  take  care !  there  is  in 
all  this  great  danger.  Sometimes  you  would  wish  to 
act  better,  to  avoid  real  evil,  to  do  real  good ;  but 
there  is  in  you  a  principle  which  stifles  everything, 
and  unceasingly  gains  ground ;  when  it  will  have 
gained  all,  invaded  all,  you  will  be  ruined;  and  al- 
ready, under  very  austere,  very  ecclesiastical  ap- 
pearances, there  is  almost  nothing  priestly  in  your 
soul.  You  have  scarcely  either  any  charity  or  real 
zeal ;  charity  and  zeal  are  visibly  becoming  extin- 
guished in  your  heart ;  you  have  hardly  ever  a 
thought  for  the  spiritual  advancement  of  your  chil- 
dren. Once  more,  take  care  !  Vastiias  et  sterilitas  ; 
behold  that  with  which  the  Scripture  threatens  the 
proud,  *  You  are  devoured  by  pride,  and  necessarily 
will  be  sterile.'  Again  the  Scripture  says,  Sicut 
lignum  aridiim  in  deserto.  Do  you  wish  that  I  should 
give  you  a  trait  of  your  character  which  will  aid  you 
to  know  yourself .''  You  admire  nothing,  you  never 
praise  any  one ;  that  is  decisive.  You  will,  I  fear, 
end  badly ;  or  rather,  no ;  your  desire  and  the  grace 
of  God  will  save  you,  and  you  will  end  well." 

He  has  really  ended  well ;  he  has  become  a  gen- 
erous and  devoted  priest.  What  happiness  to  meet 
with  sincere  and  courageous  souls,  that  do  not  rebel 
against  truth  respecting  themselves,  and  who,  once 
enlightened,  generously  put  their  hands  to  the  work ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS  IN  MAN  AND  IN  THE 
CHILD  :  SENSUALITY. 

There  is,  besides  pride,  another  deep  wound  of 
the  human  heart,  another  generating  source  of  de- 
fects and  vices  without  number  in  man  and  in  the 
child  ;  it  is  sensuaUty,  that  is  to  say,  the  inordinate 
desire  for  the  pleasures  of  the  senses.  St.  John  calls 
it  cojicupisceiitia  carnis ;  St.  Paul,  effeminacy:  Neqtie 
molles,  says  he ;  and  it  is  actually  nothing  else  but 
an  unworthy  and  cowardly  effeminacy  of  the  mind, 
the  heart,  and  the  senses.  We  ought  to  make  here, 
from  the  point  of  view  regarding  education,  a  partic- 
ular study  of  it,  because  it  is  for  education  a  danger  to 
be  feared,  and  the  source  of  the  most  painful  difficul- 
ties. We  shall  first  speak  of  the  origin  and  disorder 
of  it ;  then  of  the  fatal  sway  it  exercises  over  human 
life,  especially  over  children  and  young  people ;  and, 
in  fine,  we  shall  seek  out  what  resources  education 
prepares  to  combat  it,  and  what  are  the  remedies  pos- 
sible for  opposing  it. 


If  we  wish  to  understand  properly  what  this  disas- 
trous wound  of  human  nature  is,  and  the  particular 
difficulties  it  creates  for  education,  it  is  necessary  to 
160 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.       l6l 

go  back  to  the  chief  source  of  all  evil,  even  to  the 
original  fall.  **  God  made  man  upright,"  says  the 
philosopher;  ''and  this  uprightness,"  as  Bossuet  ex- 
plains, *'  consists  in  the  mind  being  perfectly  submis- 
sive to  God,  the  body  likewise  being  perfectly  sub- 
missive to  the  mind.  But  the  revolt  of  the  spirit 
against  God  led  to  the  revolt  of  the  flesh  against  the 
spirit."  And  again  Bossuet  says,  "  Since  original 
sin,  the  passions  of  the  flesh,  by  a  just  punishment 
of  God,  have  become  tyrannical;  man  has  been 
plunged  in  the  pleasures  of  the  senses ;  and,  accord- 
ing to  the  words  of  St.  Augustine,  instead  of  being, 
as  he  ought  to  be,  through  his  primitive  immortality 
and  the  perfect  submission  of  the  body  to  the  mind, 
spiritual  even  in  the  flesh,  he  has  become  carnal  in 
mind."  Through  original  sin  the  primitive  equilib- 
rium has  been  broken,  and  the  sad  result  of  this 
rupture  has  been  a  frightful  predominance  of  the 
body  over  the  soul.  Hence  in  us  a  strong  desire  for 
sensuous  pleasures,  and  an  irregularity,  the  disorder 
of  which  is  something  more  humiliating  and  more 
vile  even  than  pride.  Pride  is  a  usurpation,  a  crim- 
inal madness,  but  in  which  still  sparkles  a  trace,  a 
remembrance,  of  dignity;  it  is  the  mind  of  man 
being  honored  by  itself,  and  being  exalted  at  the  ex- 
pense of  truth  and  justice.  Sensuality  has  nothing 
in  it  but  vileness ;  it  is  the  most  miserable  of  the 
captivities  of  the  soul ;  it  is  the  mind  becoming  sub- 
ject to  the  flesh.  The  sensual  man  has  no  other  end, 
no  other  God  but  his  body :  Quoricfu  Dens  venter  esty 
St.  Paul  energetically  says.  Who  does  not  feel  that 
there  is  here  a  deplorable  forfeiture,  a  frightful  degra- 


1 62  THE    CHILD. 

dation,  and  the  overthrow  of  all  the  nobility  of  hu- 
man life,  in  this  insult  given  to  the  nature  and  dig- 
nity of  man  ?  Man  is  the  king  of  creation.  But 
how  —  through  his  senses,  through  his  body  ?  Cer- 
tainly not ;  in  this  relation,  there  are  animals  who 
vie  with  him.  There  are  some  of  them,  who,  in  cer- 
tain respects,  prevail  over  him ;  who  are  more  agile 
and  stronger  than  he.  There  are  some  who  do  what 
he  could  never  do ;  who  wander  over  the  bosom  of 
the  waters,  who  hover  in  the  immense  spaces  of  the 
air.  Man  is  the  king  of  creation  through  his  mind, 
through  his  intelligence,  through  his  soul.  It  is 
through  his  soul  he  is  reasonable,  through  his  soul 
he  is  free,  through  his  soul  he  is  immortal,  through 
his  soul  that  he  has  sway  over  all  nature.  That 
which  should  reign  in  man,  that  which  should  govern 
his  life,  is,  therefore,  his  soul. 

The  body  is  but  a  slave,  and  should  only  obey. 
Nevertheless,  what  does  sensuality  ?  It  reverses 
this  divine  order ;  it  causes  the  body  to  predominate 
over  the  soul ;  it  enslaves  the  soul  to  the  senses. 
The  body  has  its  instincts,  its  appetites ;  sensual, 
earthly,  carnal,  impetuous,  blind,  regarding  neither 
reason,  nor  faith,  nor  honor.  The  soul  has  its  tastes 
and  its  wants,  its  aspirations  and  its  tendencies ; 
noble,  elevated,  pure,  wise,  reasonable,  accepting  rule 
and  bridle.  But  the  sensual  inclinations  oppress  the 
aspirations  of  the  soul.  For  this  reason  there  is  a 
struggle,  a  necessary  struggle,  eternally  between 
these  two  powers  so  opposed.  It  is  necessary  to 
choose,  —  whether  the  senses  shall  be  repressed,  gov- 
erned, subjected  to  reason,  to  faith,  to  honor,  and,  the 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.       163 

soul  being  mistress,  life  shall  be  maintained  in  its 
dignity ;  or  whether  the  senses  shall  rule,  shall  en- 
slave the  soul,  and  life  become  debased. 

Alas  !  I  speak  of  struggles ;  and  how  many  men 
are  there  who  no  longer  strive,  who  abdicate,  who 
wantonly  deliver  themselves  up  to  this  debasement 
of  their  life,  this  shameful  servitude  of  the  soul ! 
Certainly  the  evil  is  profound  ;  it  lies  even  in  the 
bowels  of  human  nature.  It  is  universal;  sensual- 
ity, in  one  way  or  other,  causes  every  one  to  feel  its 
pricks.  It  is  this  degrading  yoke,  as  the  Scripture 
says,  which  weighs  on  all  the  children  of  Adam, 
from  the  day  they  came  from  the  womb  of  their 
mother  till  the  day  they  re-enter  the  bosom  of  their 
common  mother,  the  earth.  It  is  the  most  terrible 
result  and  most  manifest  token  of  this  original  for- 
feiture, by  which  the  human  creature,  who  wished  to 
elevate  himself  to  the  height  of  God,  fell  even  below 
his  own  nature,  and  paid  by  the  most  grievous  humil- 
iations the  madness  of  his  pride.  I  know  well  that 
childhood  is  not  the  age  in  which  this  inclination 
breaks  out  in  its  full  force ;  nevertheless  the  evil  lies 
deep  in  the  child  himself,  and  it  is  often  to  be  found 
there  exercising  a  dreadful  sway.  At  this  age  every- 
thing favors  sensuality.  I  speak  not  only  of  these 
sad  hereditary  seeds  in  the  souls  cf  all  the  children 
of  Adam ;  I  speak  of  the  predominance  cf  the  phys- 
ical life  over  the  intellectual  and  moral  life ;  I  speak 
of  the  development  of  the  senses  which  comes  be- 
fore that  of  reason ;  and  in  fine,  if  all  must  be  said, 
of  the  senseless  manner  in  which  the  greater  number 
of  parents  bring  up,  in  this  respect,  their  very  young 


164  THE    CHILD. 

children.  I  ought  to  dwell  on  this  point,  which 
has  results  for  ultimate  education  that  the  greater 
number  of  parents,  in  their  blind  tenderness,  do  not 
seem  even  to  suspect,  but  which  are  not  less  fatal. 
I  ought  to  point  out  this  danger,  too  much  despised 
and  too  common.  Do  they  comprehend,  do  they  ap- 
pear to  comprehend,  the  sad  but  too  real  truths 
which  we  are  speaking  of  ?  Do  they  dream  of  the 
presence  of  this  dreaded  enemy  called  sensuality  in 
the  souls  of  children,  and  of  the  extreme  danger 
there  is  in  developing  this  unfortunate  inclination  in 
childhood,  and  furnishing  it  with  its  stings  ?  There 
is  really  room  to  doubt  it,  when  we  see  the  care 
which  the  greater  number  of  parents  take  to  cultivate 
and  humor  it  in  every  way  in  their  children.  What 
do  fathers,  and  especially  mothers,  think  of — I  do 
not  say  in  the  newly-born  child,  but  in  the  child  who 
already  begins  to  understand  matters,  and  whose 
dawning  intellect  is  capable  of  culture  and  advance- 
ment—  for  example,  in  the  child  of  four  or  five  years 
old  ?  What  is  it  they  give  most  care  to  in  this  child 
—  what  is  it  they  nourish  in  him  —  what  is  it  they 
develop  in  him  ?  Is  it  the  reasonable  creature  ?  is  it 
the  mind,  the  heart,  the  soul.'*  No;  it  is  the  mate- 
rial creature  ;  the  body,  the  animal  life.  Yes  ;  there 
are  thousands  of  poor  little  children  brought  up  in 
this  manner :  overwhelmed  with  physical  cares ;  satu- 
rated with  dainties ;  their  little  faces,  their  little  per- 
sons, idolized ;  all  the  most  foolish,  and  sometimes 
the  most  ridiculous,  fripperies  sought  for,  to  clothe 
them ;  they  are  adorned,  as  it  were,  for  public  exhi- 
bition,  then  they  are  flattered,   they  are   incensed. 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.      1 65 

they  are  adored.  This  excites  pity,  and  is  an  evil  to 
see.  Let  no  one  speak  here  to  me  of  necessity,  or 
of  health;  necessity  has  a  measure  —  the  senseless 
mania  that  I  denounce  knows  it  not,  and  health  itself 
suffers  from  these  pitiful  cares.  But  it  is  especially 
the  souls  of  these  unfortunate  children  that  suffer 
from  this ;  the  physical  development  stifles  not  only 
that  of  the  mind,  but  vanity,  thus  excited,  germi- 
nates, and  takes  total  possession  of  these  poor  intox- 
icated little  heads ;  effeminacy  establishes  its  ernpire 
in  them,  enervates,  numbs,  paralyzes  them  ;  inspires 
them  with  an  inexpressible  indolence,  a  horror  of 
effort  and  labor,  which  destroys  all  their  energy,  all 
their  activity,  and  prepares  for  their  future  education 
the  most  serious  difficulties.  I  confine  myself  to 
pointing  out  here  the  two  principal  of  them,  —  sloth, 
and  injury  to  morals, 

II. 

I  say  that  sensuality,  especially  when  favored  by 
an  effeminate  education,  inevitably  engenders  in  chil- 
dren a  deplorable  slothfulness.  It  may  be  asked,  are 
not  all  children  idle  .''  Without  doubt  they  are,  and 
who  does  not  know  it.?  But  it  is  necessary  to  know 
also  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  idleness.  There  is 
the  idleness  which  has  its  origin  in  the  thoughtless- 
ness of  the  age;  that  is  not  the  most  dangerous,  and 
in  the  end  we  succeed  in  curing  it ;  it  is  necessary 
to  wait,  without  trifling  with  it,  till  the  character,  the 
mind,  the  reason,  and  the  body  itself,  attain  a  certain 
development.  The  love  of  labor,  especially  mental 
labor,    cannot    spring   up    immediately.      Childhood, 


1 66  THE    CHILD. 

naturally  lively,  uncertain,  and  eager,  can  keep  still 
neither  its  body  nor  its  tongue;  it  talks,  laughs, 
and  continually  jumps  about,  without  reflection  or 
system ;  it  prefers  play  to  serious  matters.  That 
will  pass  away.  Much  patience,  and  also  much  en- 
couragement, is  necessary  with  such  children-^ 
something  which  excites  and  takes  hold  of  them  ; 
much  persistency,  with  a  firmness  always  benevolent, 
and  sometimes  indulgent :  in  a  word,  never  to  permit 
the  child  to  become  indolent,  or  to  get  the  better  of 
you ;  but  also  neither  to  crush  nor  dishearten  him. 
I  can  scarcely  recollect  having  ever  despaired  of  a 
child  idle  through  thoughtlessness  and  giddiness,  or 
have  sent  away  such  children.  When  we  know  how 
to  win  them,  we  bring  it  to  an  end  sooner  or  later,  and 
oftentimes  very  soon.  But  there  is  another  idleness, 
—  the  inertness  which  arises  from  a  weak  nature, 
without  energy  or  elasticity ;  this  idleness  is  almost 
incurable,  at  least  unless  one  applies  himself  to  its 
cure  in  very  good  time  by  well-contrived  means 
equally  mild  and  firm.  But  an  early  education,  such 
as  that  which  I  depicted  just  now,  is  one  of  the 
greatest  ^obstacles  such  a  cure  can  meet  with.  The 
cares,  efforts,  and  perseverance  that  will  be  required 
later  on  to  save  a  child  thus  brought  up,  in  order  to 
make  a  worker  of  him,  to  make  a  man  of  him,  are 
incredible.  And  how  many  times  do  they  fail !  Let 
parents  take  care,  then,  and  not  create  beforehand 
terrible  and  almost  unsurmountable  difficulties  for 
the  education  of  their  children.  One  fails  so  much 
the  more,  because  this  intellectual  and  physical 
effeminacy  is  usually  accompanied  by  effeminacy  of 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.       16/ 

the  heart,  a  sort  of  moral  apathy,  and  insensibUity. 
Now,  Fenelon  has  rightly  said  of  it,  "  Of  all  the 
troubles  of  education,  none  is  to  be  compared  with 
that  of  bringing  up  children  deficient  in  sensibility. 
Quick,  feeling  natures  may  fall  into  terrible  disor- 
ders ;  the  passions  and  presumption  may  hurry  them 
away ;  but  they  have  also  great  resources,  and  can 
be  reclaimed,  though  far  gone  —  instruction  is  in 
them  a  hidden  germ  which  puts  forth  shoots  and 
bears  fruit  when  experience  comes  to  the  aid  of  rea- 
son, and  the  passions  cool ;  at  least,  we  know  by 
what  means  we  can  render  them  attentive  and  arouse 
their  curiosity.  They  have  in  them  a  something 
which  causes  them  to  become  interested  in  what 
is  taught  to  them,  and  their  honor  may  be  piqued ; 
instead  of  which  we  have  no  hold  on  indolent  na- 
tures. All  the  thoughts  of  the  latter  are  distractions; 
they  are  never  where  they  ought  to  be ;  even  correc- 
tion cannot  sting  them  to  the  quick ;  they  hear  all, 
and  feel  nothing.  This  indolence  renders  the  child 
negligent  and  disgusted  with  everything  he  does ; 
the  best  education,  then,  runs  the  risk  of  shipwreck, 
if  we  do  not  hasten  to  get  before  the  evil  during  the 
earliest  years  of  childhood."  Is  it  this  that  effemi- 
nate education,  unfortunately  so  general  in  the  pres- 
ent day,  does  for  young  children  ?  Thanks  be  to 
God,  when  it  does  not  prepare  another  danger  still 
more  to  be  feared :  I  speak  of  the  danger  to  their 
morals. 

in. 

I  border  here  on  a  subject  particularly  delicate  and 
painful ;  I  touch  one  of  the  greatest  wounds  of  man 


l68  THE    CHILD. 

and  the  child,  also  one  of  the  most  terrible  rocks  in 
the  way  of  education.  I  shall  have  some  severe 
words  to  say  —  without  doubt,  I  shall  surprise  more 
than  one  mother,  ignorant  of  the  perils  around  her 
dear  child,  and  perhaps  confiding  too  much  in  an 
innocence,  which,  during  a  long  time,  has  not  existed. 
But,  since  I  am  led  to  treat  here  of  such  a  subject,  I 
must  have  the  courage  to  speak  the  necessary  truths, 
and  to  tell  them  to  all  those  who  have  need  of  hear- 
ing them  —  to  children,  to  masters,  to  parents  them- 
selves. Ah !  if  there  be  anything  beautiful,  amiable, 
heavenly,  on  earth,  it  is  innocence  in  a  young  man, 
in  a  child ;  a  heart,  a  soul,  which  evil  has  not  yet 
approached,  which  is  ignorant  of  it,  or  has  been  pre- 
served from  its  stains ;  an  innocent,  candid,  virginal 
soul,  which  has  retained  all  its  freshness,  all  its 
bloom,  all  its  perfume.  Who  can  describe  the  grace, 
the  charm,  the  nobility,  the  dignity,  the  honor,  of  it ! 
It  is  sweet  to  meet  with  such  a  soul  on  earth  —  to 
contemplate,  to  love  it.  We  recognize  in  it  without 
trouble,  we  are  sensible  of,  an  indescribable  sign  of 
happiness,  some  reflection  of  itself  on  a  mild  and 
pure  physiognomy.  We  are  charmed  at  seeing  all 
the  early  limpidity  of  this  countenance,  all  the  inno- 
cent candor  of  this  mien,  and  this  amiable  face. 
This  soul  has  not  only  all  its  grace,  but  it  has  still  its 
first  sap,  its  ardor,  its  vigor,  its  power ;  as  it  were, 
nothing  in  it  has  been  defiled,  nothing  has  been  ex- 
hausted;  life  flows  on  in  its  primitive  abundance  — 
it  keeps  its  faculties,  with  all  their  treasures,  their 
wealth  of  energy,  intact ;  with  its  grace  and  strength 
it   retains   all   its    tenderness.      Vice,    which   might 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.      1 69 

have  defiled  it,  cooled  or  extinguished  its  flame, 
having  never  breathed  over  it,  that  pure  flame,  that 
flame  of  good  and  holy  affections,  lighted  up  by  God 
himself,  has  been  preserved  there  as  in  a  sanctuary. 
We  know  that  a  man,  too  celebrated  for  his  unbelief 
and  scandals,  has,  in  a  moment  of  sincerity  and  frank- 
ness, uttered  this  very  true  speech :  "  I  maintain,  a 
young  man  who  has  retained  his  innocence  up  to 
twenty  years  of  age,  is,  at  that  age,  the  most  gener- 
ous, the  best,  the  most  amiable,  of  men."  Such  is 
innocence  in  a  child,  in  a  young  man  —  more  charm- 
ing, more  touching,  perhaps,  in  this  happy  age,  which 
is  ignorant  of  everything,  and  in  which  strife  against 
innocence  has  not  yet  come  to  disturb  it;  though 
more  worthy  of  respect,  and  in  some  manner  more 
sacred  in  a  heart  which  already  feels  its  place  dis- 
puted, but  which  guards  it,  and  in  which  it  then  be- 
comes virtue.  But  what  a  holy  and  dreadful  charge 
for  a  father,  for  a  mother,  for  masters,  to  guard  this 
soul,  this  heart,  during  childhood  and  through  youth, 
even  to  mature  age ;  to  lead  it  to  the  age  of  man- 
hood through  all  the  perils  of  ignorance  and  tempta- 
tion, without  permitting  this  purity,  this  beauty,  this 
charm,  to  be  blighted ;  without  permitting  this 
crown  to  be  lost !  What  a  w^ork !  what  incompara- 
ble happiness  !  and  also  what  invaluable  service  !  It 
must  be  admitted  with  a  sigh,  that  it  is  rare,  and  it 
is  here  we  may  well  cry  out,  in  sight  of  such  uni- 
versal shipwrecks,  apparent  rari.  We  live  in  an  evil 
age,  where  innocence  is  vainly  sought  for;  we 
scarcely  longer  meet  among  us  those  countenances 
full  of  candor,  in  which  the  sweet  attractions  of  this 
15 


I/O  THE    CHILD. 

amiable  virtue  shine.  Innocence  !  innocence  !  child- 
hood itself  is  no  longer  acquainted  with  you  —  it 
blushes  for  you.  This  age  has  lost  its  artless  charm, 
since  frightful  corruption  seems  to  sit  by  its  cradle 
in  order  to  watch  its  awakening.  The  child  of  our 
days  appears  ripened  before  his  time  by  vice  —  pre- 
cocious and  damaged  fruit,  which  libertinism  gathers 
during  the  morning  of  life,  and,  without  trouble,  de- 
taches from  virtue ;  soon  becoming  a  prey  to  all  the 
ravages  of  vice,  it  disappears  in  the  bloom  of  life, 
leaving  behind  an  odor  of  death.  Here  is  what  too 
frequently  becomes  of  youth,  and  even  of  childhood, 
among  us.  But  let  us  hasten  to  say,  also  —  and  let 
it  be  sufficient  consolation  and  encouragement  for 
those  whose  sacred  duty  it  is  to  bring  up  and  save 
children  for  God  —  all  do  not  perish  in  this  ship- 
wreck. No;  whatever  may  be  the  weaknesses  of  this 
age,  and  the  wretchedness  of  the  corrupted  times 
in  which  we  live,  we  can  never  be  justified  in  be- 
lieving that  childhood  is  fatally  cast,  as  it  were,  into 
a  pasture  of  vice,  while  there  are  happy  examples  of 
young  people  retaining  their  chaste  innocence  to  the 
epoch  of  priestly  education,  or  even,  in  the  world,  to 
the  hour  of  a  blessed  marriage,  bearing  witness  that 
parents  and  the  religious  teachers  of  youth  have  at 
their  disposal  efficacious  means  for  saving  this  age, 
so  tender  and  so  exposed.  Yes,  there  are  still  among 
us,  thanks  to  Heaven,  virtuous.  Christian  families, 
profoundly  blessed  by  God,  in  which  piety  and  good 
morals  are  cultivated.  Noble  traditions,  great  ex- 
amples, simple  and  strong  virtues,  form  there,  as  it 
were,  an  atmosphere  of  honor  and  purity,  which  the 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.      I /I 

child  inhales  from  his  birth,  amid  which  he  happily 
grows  up,  which  creates  for  him  a  healthy  and  pure 
temperament,  and  which  gives  him,  with  the  instinc- 
tive horror  of  evil,  holy  habits  of  modesty,  decency, 
and  respect.  There  are  houses  of  education,  where 
so  strict  a  guard  is  placed  around  the  youth  whose 
innocence  they  shelter,  that  evil  is  averted,  and 
under  the  eyes  of  God,  and  the  wings  of  religion, 
virtue  is  preserved  and  strengthened  for  the  strife  of 
the  future.  I  have  had  the  consolation  of  living  in  a 
house,  of  which  a  religious,  one  of  the  holiest  and 
most  clear-sighted  —  the  Pere  de  Ravignan  —  could 
say  to  me  after  a  retreat,  '*  I  do  not  know  if  there 
be  in  the  world  a  house  where  there  can  be  more  in- 
nocence than  in  yours."  I  recall  to  mind  with  emo- 
tion one  day  —  it  was  Easter  Monday  —  when  a  man 
of  great  intellect,  great  experience,  a  celebrated 
laureate  of  the  University,  a  Christian,  and  other- 
wise very  virtuous,  dining  with  us  at  Gentilly,  under 
our  trees,  already  verdant  and  in  blossom,  and  seeing 
the  pure  joy  of  these  children,  the  candor  of  their 
countenances,  the  innocence  of  their  frolics  and  their 
shouts,  said  suddenly,  turning  towards  me,  "  What 
happiness  to  think  that  perhaps  there  is  not  one  of 
these  children  who  may  not  be  pure  and  in  favor 
with  God!  "  ^  Yes,  childhood  can  be  saved,  and,  if  it 
be  lost,  it  is  frequently  because  it  has  not  been  suffi- 

1  He  was,  nevertheless,  a  very  original  and  very  amusing  man ; 
very  strong  in  Latin  verse.  Some  moments  after,  as  the  children 
were  singing  a  hymn  according  to  their  fashion  in  honor  of  the  Holy 
Virgin,  he  suddenly  cried  out,  "  Ah,  there  is  a  mortal  sin  !  "  It  was  a 
false  verse. 


172  THE    CHILD. 

ciently  watched  over,  either  at  college,  or  even  some- 
times, it  must  be  said,  at  the  domestic  hearth. 
There  is  here  a  terrible  responsibility  and  a  very 
grave  subject  for  the  meditation  of  parents  and  those 
who  fill  their  place,  for  the  ravages  of  evil  are  fre- 
quently frightful.  It  is  enough  to  cause  a  shudder ! 
Yes,  when  vice  has  taken  hold  of  a  poor  child,  a 
poor  young  man,  it  is  impossible  to  describe  what  it 
makes  of  him,  whither  it  drives  him.  When  this 
evil  becomes  contagious,  and,  like  the  plague,  grad- 
ually spreads  in  a  house  of  education,  or  any  other, 
it  is  terrible  to  see  the  victims  it  strikes,  the  ruins 
it  heaps  up.  Mothers  !  mothers  of  families  !  watch, 
watch  aver  your  children  in  your  houses,  at  your 
sides ;  for  there,  even  there,  close  by  you,  and,  so  to 
say,  under  the  shadow  of  your  wings,  the  evil  may 
seize  and  devour  them.  There  are  perils  close  by 
you,  around  you,  among  you.  Professors,  directors, 
superiors,  open  your  eyes ;  be  vigilant ;  behold  the 
enemy,  the  dreaded  enemy ;  if  he  penetrate,  if  he 
enter,  he  will  devastate  your  house,  he  will  ruin  all ; 
he  will  cast  victim  upon  victim,  dead  upon  dead ! 
Nevertheless,  when  this  evil  has  possession  of  a 
young  heart,  its  sad  and  lugubrious  symptoms  may 
be  quickly  perceived.  What  sudden  change  has  been 
wrought  in  this  child  ?  He  was  merry,  frank,  loving ; 
behold  him  suddenly  sad,  restless,  gloomy,  defiant, 
dissimulating.  He  has  no  longer  his  candid  smile, 
his  blooming  countenance,  his  open  heart,  his  ex- 
pansive soul ;  something  has  passed  over  his  physiog- 
nomy, and  has  cast,  as  it  were,  a  veil  on  it ;  some- 
thing  is   there,  in   that   heart,  which   contracts   it; 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.      1 73 

something  he  does  not  wish  to  show,  Hke  a  shameful 
secret  that  he  hides.  The  poor  child !  whither  is  a 
first  step  about  to  conduct  him }  At  first  he  hesi- 
tated, he  blushed,  he  trembled ;  soon  he  no  longer 
hesitates,  he  no  longer  blushes,  he  no  longer  trembles. 
One  fall  leads  to  another;  one  abyss  decoys  to  an- 
other; weakness  increases,  habit  becomes  formed  — 
terrible  habit,  which  triumphs  over  will,  reason,  honor, 
faith,  conscience,  everything.  He  no  longer  hears 
anything,  he  no  longer  sees  anything ;  it  becomes 
a  frenzy.  Insensibility,  impudence,  get  the  better  of 
him.  He  inflicts  outrage  upon  outrage,  ignominy 
upon  ignominy.  Who  will  stop  him  in  his  disorders  ? 
Who  will  recover  him  from  such  a  weakness  }  Who 
will  break  off  such  habits  .'*  Who  will  burst  such 
bonds }  Alas !  who  does  not  know  that  there  is 
nothing,  nothing  in  the  world,  so  difficult  to  correct 
in  a  child  as  secret  habits  of  impurity  ^  And  whither 
will  they  conduct  him  ?  What  is  to  become  of  him  ? 
What  will  become  of  his  education,  his  future,  his 
life  ?  Vice  will  soon  have  blighted,  killed,  everything 
m  him  —  his  body  first  —  his  health  receives  a  mortal 
taint.  Poor  child,  scarcely  beginning  life,  he  has  ex- 
hausted and  dried  up  its  sources.  This  frail  organi- 
zation, which  has  not  yet  acquired  its  development, 
its  consistency,  its  strength,  he  abuses  in  every  way ; 
he  undermines,  he  corrupts,  he  destroys  it.  Nature 
cannot  be  outraged  with  impunity  —  outraged  nature 
revenges  itself,  and  its  vengeance  is  terrible ;  some- 
times slow,  it  always  comes.  The  fresh  coloring  of 
that  young  face  has  already  disappeared,  and  given 
place  to  an  accusing  paleness ;  his  eyes  have  become 
15* 


174  THE    CHILD. 

extinguished ;  precocious  lines  already  furrow  his 
forehead ;  his  whole  constitution  wears  out  and  de- 
cays—  life  goes  on,  death  arrives  —  an  old  man  at 
twenty  years  of  age ;  see  him  verging  towards  his 
grave,  where,  as  the  Scripture  says,  "  his  vices  shall 
descend  with  him,  and  dishonor  his  ashes."  Behold 
the  fruits  of  vice  for  so  many  unfortunate  children 
and  young  people  !  — a  premature  death,  or  at  least  a 
debilitated  life ;  the  health  impaired  for  ever.  The 
ruins  of  mind  and  heart  are  not  less  great.  In  these 
shameful  habits  the  mind  loses  its  elasticity  and  its 
vigor,  its  delicacy  and  its  grace ;  enervated  by  vile 
enjoyment,  plunged  in  the  mire  of  the  senses,  it  be- 
comes blunted,  it  becomes  numbed,  it  wallows  in 
sloth  and  torpor.  The  imagination,  possessed  by  a 
settled  idea  which  it  pursues,  tormented  by  impure 
phantoms,  can  no  longer  turn  away  from  them ;  it 
has  neither  intellectual  vigor  nor  moral  power ;  the 
exercise  of  thought  only  wearies ;  love  of  good  finds 
there  a  surfeited  heart,  when  it  does  not  find  it  har- 
dened ;  the  sensual  child  no  longer  labors,  no  longer 
studies,  no  longer  loves.  He  no  longer  loves :  sen- 
sual vice  profoundly  impairs  the  character,  and  kills 
the  heart  in  those  who  gives  themselves  up  to  it. 
The  child  was  born  good,  sweet  and  amiable,  simple 
and  sincere ;  he  had  a  candor  of  soul,  and  a  mild 
serenity  of  temper,  arising  from  the  peace  of  a  pure 
conscience ;  but,  since  the  fatal  habits  of  vice  have 
invaded  him,  that  equality,  which  had  its  source  in 
the  calmness  of  the  soul,  is  no  more  than  a  peevish, 
capricious,  whimsical  temper ;  that  candor,  which 
displayed  his  whole  soul,  shows  but  gloomy  and  hid- 


SECOND  SOURCE  OF  DEFECTS,  ETC.      1/5 

den  thoughts.  He  has  lost,  with  his  innocence,  that 
which  constituted  his  greatest  charm.  In  like  man- 
ner, the  source  of  the  best  and  purest  affections 
has  been  dried  up  in  that  worn-out  heart.  It  has 
been  remarked,  that  corrupted  children  are  incapable 
of  gratitude,  and  have  not  any  elevated  or  generous 
feeling.  The  habit  of  egotistical  enjoyment  inter- 
dicts disinterested  pleasures  ;  and  the  most  withering 
reproach  has  been  inflicted  as  a  chastisement  by  the 
writer  whom  I  indicated  just  now  as  rendering  an 
unsuspected  homage  to  virtue :  "  I  have  always 
seen,"  says  Rousseau,  "  that  children  corrupted  at  an 
early  age  become  wicked  and  cruel.  They  know 
neither  pity  nor  mercy.  They  will  sacrifice  father, 
mother,  and  the  entire  universe,  to  the  least  of  their 
pleasures."  To  enjoy  is  everything  for  them  ;  the 
rest  is  nothing.  Nevertheless,  sensual  children 
sometimes  have  the  air  of  having  a  good  heart ;  but 
it  is  necessary  not  to  be  deceived  by  it  —  it  is  a  false 
appearance.  The  appearance  of  sensibility  in  chil- 
dren should  be  studied  with  great  care  by  masters ; 
it  is  in  the  highest  degree  important  to  look  well  into 
the  source  of  it,  and  see  if  it  come  from  the  heart,  or 
the  senses  :  if  it  come  from  the  heart,  it  is  good, 
valuable,  and  a  great  resource  for  the  education  of 
the  child  ;  but,  if  it  come  from  the  senses  and  the 
evil  tenderness  of  an  effeminate  heart,  it  is  false  and 
very  dangerous.  There  must  be  no  doubt  on  this 
point.  Nothing  is  more  egotistical  and  harder  than 
a  corrupted  child,  whatever  appearances  he  may  have. 
That  caressing  tenderness  which  he  sometimes 
evinces,  and  which  resembles  the  blossom  of  affec- 


1/6  THE    CHILD. 

tion,  has  sad  roots,  an  evil  nature ;  if  we  look  closely 
into  it,  we  shall  not  be  slow  to  see  that  this  flower  is 
mud.  It  is  necessary  to  be  kind  to  such  children, 
but  rarely  tender,  except  with  great  gravity;  they 
must  never  be  permitted,  but  with  extreme  reserve, 
sensible  manifestations  of  their  effeminate  tender- 
ness ;  for  example,  never  to  embrace  them,  or  allow 
one's  self  to  be  embraced  by  them.  They  require 
much  compassion,  but  it  should  be  firm  and  dignified. 
These  children  resemble  damaged  fruit :  look  at  an 
apple  —  while  we  do  not  see  that  there  is  a  worm  in 
its  heart,  it  seems  sound  and  good ;  let  us  open  it, 
we  find  there  but  rottenness.  But  this  is  enough  on 
these  sad  subjects.  It  is  enough  to  make  whosoever 
is  charged  with  bringing  up  childhood  understand 
the  fears  and  all  the  vigilance  necessary  on  this 
point.  Let  us  now  see  how  we  can  prevent  and 
combat  so  great  an  evil. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

WHAT    IS    TO    BE    DONE    IN    ORDER    TO    SAVE    CHILDREN 
FROM    THE    DANGERS    OF    SENSUALITY. 

It  is  to  parents  solely  that  I  first  address  myself, 
for  the  care  of  preserving  their  children  concerns 
them  above  all  others.  Among  the  duties  of  pater- 
nal and  maternal  authority,  there  is  none  more  seri- 
ous, more  delicate,  more  sacred.  Carelessness,  even 
thoughtlessness,  in  this  respect,  would  be,  not  alone 
unpardonable,  but  they  cannot  be  imagined  in  parents 
—  I  do  not  say  Christian  —  but  those  having  simply 
the  commonest  tenderness  for  their  children.  If 
every  honor  confided  by  God  to  his  creatures  has  a 
corresponding  duty,  so  much  the  more  serious  as  the 
honor  is  greater,  what  solicitude  is  there  not  imposed 
on  those  who  have  received  from  God  the  incompara- 
ble deposit  of  the  soul  of  a  child  —  the  deposit  of 
such  weakness  and  such  innocence !  In  order  to 
express  my  idea,  I  will  borrow  from  the  Scriptures  a 
simple  and  forcible  expression  :  I  will  say  that  parents 
should  watch  over  their  children  as  over  the  apple  of 
their  eye.  But  do  they  always  sufficiently  under- 
stand in  practice  all  that  is  comprised  in  this  high 
and  holy  obligation,  and  even  to  what  point  solici- 
tude and  prudence  must  be  carried  ?  May  they  not 
be,  and  are  they  not,  too  frequently,  cutpabi^cjiffnorant 


178  THE    CHILD. 

and  deplorably  deluded  on  this  subject?  I  will  say 
at  once,  it  is  at  a  very  early  age,  from  the  first  years, 
and,  if  I  may  say  so,  from  the  cradle,  that  it  is  neces- 
sary to  think  of  preserving  soul  and  body  from 
effeminacy  and  its  frightful  results,  to  lay  the  foun- 
dation of  good  morals  in  children  by  a  strict  educa- 
tion and  the  extreme  of  vigilance.  But  what  means 
must  they  use,  and  to  what  precautions  must  they 
have  recourse  ?  Some  details  are  required  here.  On 
account  of  the  gravity  and  sanctity  of  the  subject,  I 
may  be  excused  those  mto  which  I  am  going  to 
enter.  I  will  simply  give  my  idea  on  each  matter 
relating  to  it.  It  is  of  supreme  importance  to  accus- 
tom children  to  modesty,  to  decency,  in  every  thing 
respecting  themselves  ;  to  inspire  them  with  a  great 
bashfulness.  In  order  to  arrive  at  this,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  watch  well  over  their  going  to  rest,  their 
sleeping,  and  their  rising;  to  take  care  to  cover  them 
well ;  especially  never  to  allow  them  to  sleep  to- 
gether, nor  with  other  persons  ;  to  abstain  from  all 
familiarity  with  regard  to  them  —  nevertheless,  with- 
out affectation ;  to  watch  their  plays ;  to  make  them 
avoid  all  unsuitable  behavior  among  themselves ; 
never  to  permit  them  any  kind  of  rude,  indecent 
liberties,  as  is  sometimes  done  under  pretext  of 
amusing  tricks.  On  all  these  matters,  children  must 
be  given,  from  the  earliest  age,  elevated  and  pure 
precedents.  It  is  strictly  necessary  never  to  permit 
ourselves  the  most  trifling  liberty  whatsoever  before 
them.  The  ancient  maxim  should  always  be  under 
the  eye  of  every  family,  especially  every  Christian 
family,    Maxima   debetur  ptiero   reverentia :  si  quid 


SENSUALITY  —  HOW    TO    SAVE    FROM.  1/9 

titrpe  paras,  iie  Ul  pueri  conteinpseris  annos.  Woe  to 
the  parents  of  whom  Tacitus  has  said,  **  It  is  some- 
times the  parents  themselves  who  habituate  their 
children  to  licentiousness  and  vice,  instead  of  honor 
and  virtue  "  —  Quajidoque  etiam  ipsi parentes  nee pro- 
bitati  neqiLe  modestice  parviilos  assiiefaciiuit,  sed  las- 
eivice  ct  libcrtati.  (Dial,  de  Orator.  29.)  And  (Quin- 
tilian,  book  i.  c.  4),  Nos  dociiimus,  ex  nobis  andierunty 
etc.  —  ''  It  is  we  ourselves  who  have  instructed  them  in 
evil ;  it  is  from  us  they  have  learned  it !  "  Let  them 
always  remember,  then,  to  watch  with  strict  atten- 
tion every  word  they  utter  at  the  domestic  fireside : 
children  always  listen,  and  understand  more  than 
they  suppose ;  and  a  single  word  may  do  them  mor- 
tal injury.  Carefully  remove  from  their  sight  every 
dangerous  object,  —  bad  books,  bad  pamphlets,  bad 
newspapers,  whether  illustrated  or  not,  or  bad  pic- 
tures. This  is  the  gravest,  the  strictest  duty.  What 
is  to  be  said  of  the  negligence  of  certain  parents  in 
this  respect,  and  of  everything  that  is  to  be  seen  ex- 
hibited on  the  tables  of  certain  drawing-rooms  }  I 
cannot  resist  citing  here  an  incredible  example  of 
imprudence  and  laxity  which  I  myself  witnessed.  A 
young  man  of  fifteen  years  of  age  had  received  for 
his  new-year's  gift,  magnificently  bound,  a  complete 
collection  of  the  works  of  a  contemporary  author,  a 
poet  and  celebrated  novelist,  whose  name  I  shall  not 
mention.  Every  one  knows  he  has  written  too  much, 
and  sometimes  too  freely,  for  his  entire  works  to  be 
placed  with  impunity  in  the  hands  of  a  young  man. 
I  one  day  entered  the  house  of  this  child's  parents, 
accompanied  by  a  respectable  magistrate.     The  boy 


l80  THE    CHILD. 

was  there  with  his  books.  "  What  are  these  beauti- 
ful volumes.^"  asked  the  magistrate.  The' mother, 
witli  some  embarrassment,  named  the  author.  The 
magistrate  could  not  prevent  himself  from  evincing 
surprise.     "  But  at  least,"    replied  he,  "  I  hope  this 

young  man  will  not  read  these ,  nor  these ." 

"  He  has  already  read  them,"  answered  the  boy.  I 
went  out  on  the  moment,  in  order  to  relieve  the 
mother  from  the  visible  restraint  my  presence  had 
placed  upon  her.  Imprudent  mother!  how  had  she 
understood  her  duty !  And  the  volumes  had  been 
sent  by  a  near  relative ! 

Another  point  which  again  requires  the  greatest 
vigilance  from  parents  is  that  of  servants,  children's 
maids,  valets,  coachmen,  grooms ;  I  will  go  further, 
and,  at  the  risk  of  surprising  not  a  few,  I  will  say 
even  nurses.  How  many  times  have  we  not  said 
that  parents  do  not  sufficiently  understand  all  the 
injury  their  grievous  negligence,  their  too  much 
blind  confidence,  in  this  respect,  may  cause  to  chil- 
dren !  One  day,  a  mother,  driven  to  despair  by  hav- 
ing her  son  sent  away  from  an  educational  establish- 
ment for  a  shameful  fault,  in  a  transport  of  passion 
said  to  the  superior,  ''  If  my  son  is  acquainted  with 
evil,  sir,  it  is  in  your  house  he  has  learned  it ;  he  was 
pure  when  I  confided  him  to  you  !  "  But  the  supe- 
rior, being  unfortunately  better  informed,  replied  to 
her,  "No,  madam,  it  is  not  here  your  son  has  learned 
evil.  You  have  in  your  house,  at .  the  present  mo- 
ment, a  domestic  who  has  all  your  confidence;  it  is 
he  who  has  ruined  your  son.  Interrogate  your  child 
yourself."     These  people,  even  though  they  may  not 


SENSUALITY HOW    TO    SAVE    FROM.  l8l 

be,  as  is  too  often  seen,  known  corrupters,  are  so 
coarse  in  their  education,  their  manners,  and  their 
language,  that  children  left  to  them  can  easily  learn 
many  evil  things,  if  they  be  not  well  and  closely 
watched.  It  is  necessary  to  be  not  less  careful  re- 
specting the  companions  who  visit  them  :  children 
learn  evil  from  one  another,  and  it  is  in  this  way 
they  usually  go  wrong.  Every  mother  must  know, 
that,  owing  to  the  unhappy  times  we  li\e  in,  every 
little  companion  may  be  dangerous  for  her  child ; 
and  it  is  there  she  must  begin  to  exercise  her  watch- 
fulness. The  greater  number  of  children,  especially 
in  towns,  have,  from  the  earliest  age,  lost  their  inno- 
cence in  different  degrees.  Not  one  who  may  not 
have  drunk  more  or  less  poison  !  not  one  who  does 
not  know  at  least  something,  if  not  everything,  of 
evil !  not  one  among  the  sons  of  Adam  who  may 
not  have  instincts,  sensual  tastes,  extremely  to  be 
dreaded,  with  respect  to  purity  !  not  one,  who,  if  he 
be  not  rigorously  watched  over,  may  not  be  capable 
of  those  liberties,  those  improper  familiarities,  which 
can  so  quickly  lead  to  everything  bad !  Children 
who  are  permitted  to  visit  freely  are  always  a  danger 
to  each  other.  As  I  write  for  the  instruction  of 
every  one,  parents  as  well  as  masters,  I  ought  to 
Speak  of  everything,  and  not  shrink  from  any  useful 
detail.  I  will  then  say,  Keep  your  eyes  open  with 
fear  and  vigilance,  not  only  on  the  little  compan- 
ions who  visit  your  children,  but  likewise  on  male 
and  female  cousins,  among  whom  familiarities  are 
frequently  but  the  more  dangerous,  on  account  of 
being  more  easily  carried  on.  I  go  further,  and  not 
i6 


1 82  THE    CHILD. 

without  reason :  watch  over  even  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. Yes,  when  there  are  many  children  in  a  family, 
who  put  on  or  take  off  their  clothing  in  the  same 
room  before  one  another,  and  who  may  often  find 
themselves  alone  together,  there  is  a  danger  for  both 
which  demands  all  the  vigilance  of  parents.  Why 
should  I  be  obliged  to  speak  of  these  matters .?  and 
will  parents  believe  me  ?  I  shall  have  at  least  per- 
formed my  duty  by  telling  them :  it  is  frequently 
under  their  roof,  and  almost  under  their  eyes  —  closed 
by  an  unhappy  and  false  security  —  that  evil  befalls 
their  children  ;  and  how  can  they  prevent  it  ?  They 
do  not  even  suspect  it.  All  this  is  grievous  to  speak 
of  ;  but  it  is  the  truth.  Yes  ;  in  spite  of  the  presumed 
innocence  of  their  age,  children,  whatsoever  they 
may  be,  must  be  distrusted,  and  have  a  watchful  eye 
over  them  in  everything.  I  will  plainly  ask  parents 
—  blind,  weak,  as  they  are,  regarding  the  most  evi- 
dent defects,  the  least  pardonable  faults,  of  their  sons 
and  their  daughters  —  do  they  sincerely,  freely,  wish 
for  the  preservation  of  their  innocence  ?  or  do  they 
at  least  attach  to  this  great  and  supreme  matter  all 
the  importance  that  it  deserves  ?  There  is  certainly 
room  to  doubt  of  it.  They  excuse,  they  color,  they 
find  reasons  for,  everything  in  children.  For  in- 
stance, a  child  shows  too  lively  an  inclination  for 
pleasure ;  the  mother  tells  you,  "  Oh  !  there  is  no 
room  for  anxiety ;  it  is  not  what  one  imagines  ;  it  is  all 
simply  an  open-hearted  and  undisguised  nature."  But 
he  betrays  himself  by  an  obscene  word;  it  is  purely 
a  sally  of  playful  humor ;  he  has  never  seen  anything 
wrong.     And  they  thus  answer  everything;  excuse 


SENSUALITY HOW    TO    SAVE    FROM.  1 83 

everything.  I  declare,  I  have  jfrequently  found  the 
children  less  insupportable  by  their  vices  than  the 
parents  by  their  whims.  I  have  but  one  question  to 
put  here  to  those  unfortunate  parents  :  Do  you,  or  do 
you  not,  wish  your  children  to  be  innocent  ?  Well, 
use  the  means  then  —  all  the  means  —  necessary  for 
it.  Nothing  is  superfluous.  But  no  ;  I  fear  you  do 
not  wish  it.  There  is,  however,  at  least  one  thing 
you  wish  :  you  desire  health,  renown,  fortune,  long 
life,  for  them,  and  affection  for  yourself.  You  de- 
sire at  least  all  that.  Well,  blind  as  you  are,  know 
that  it  is  but  on  condition  of  being  virtuous  that 
these  things  are  to  be  secured.  If  you  desire  these, 
wish  for  what  gives  them  ;  do  not  be  inconsistent. 
But  no;  you  do  not  seriously  desire  even  that;  you 
give  everything  up  to  chance.  If  you  seriously  de- 
sired it,  would  you  cast  these  poor  children  —  for 
how  can  I  forget  this  danger.?  —  would  you  cast  them 
into  these  public  schools,  I  ought  to  say  these  gulfs, 
that  we  know  of  ?  1  do  not  attack,  I  do  not  name, 
any  of  them ;  in  fine,  we  know  that  authoritative 
voices,  from  all  parts,  have  been  loudly  raised  against 
them.  There  are  such  houses  where  a  child  is  cer- 
tainly ruined  if  he  enter ;  and  you  place  him  there ! 
Well,  I  maintain,  myself,  that  parents  cannot  con- 
scientiously, for  any  reason,  or  on  any  account,  place 
their  children  in  such  houses.  They  will  say.  What 
are  we  to  do.'*  Everything  except  what  you  do. 
Though  you  may  have  much  to  say,  and  much  to 
allege,  God  will  not  excuse  you.  You  will  not  have 
done  what  you  ought,  what  you  could  have  done,  for 
your  child.     It  may  be  you  do  not  place  him  in  one 


184  THE    CHILD. 

of  these  houses  of  perdition ;  you  keep  him  at  home; 
you  give  him  a  tutor.  But  you  will  choose  this  tutor 
among  a  thousand  —  observe  what  I  say  —  among 
a  thousand .''  In  fine,  suppose  the  tutor  excellent ; 
do  you  believe,  that,  in  providing  him,  all  is  done,  and 
that  your  child  can  no  longer  need  other  assistance .'' 
To  confine  myself  to  one  of  the  most  important 
needs,  do  you  think  that  his  piety  can  be  sustained 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  preserve  his  heart  from  all 
dangerous  impressions  within  and  without,  from  all 
the  snares  that  surround  —  even  in  the  best- watched 
houses  —  the  innocence  of  a  poor  child,  if  you  do 
not  give  this  new-born  and  weak  piety  the  necessary 
support  of  sound  instruction  and  the  sacraments  ? 
Ere  long,  there  are  indications,  alas !  too  certain, 
which  cause  you  anxiety.  You  come  to  seek  us,  to 
confide  to  us  your  anxieties,  your  vexations ;  your 
tears,  to  ask  our  advice :  but  will  you  follow  this  ad- 
vice ?  We  can  never  prevail  upon  you  to  do  that ; 
necessarilly,  we  propose  in  such  a  case  the  indispen- 
sable aid  of  regular,  frequent  confession.  Oh !  but 
that  cannot  be ;  there  would  be  such  a  master  to  be 
inconvenienced,  such  a  lesson  to  be  lost.  You  do 
not  wish  it ;  and,  nevertheless,  you  wish  your  son  to 
be  saved :  you  wish  an  impossibility.  I  will  then 
say  to  those  mothers  who  require  to  hear  it,  You  be- 
lieve our  word  to  be  more  efficacious  than  it  is  ;  you 
send  your  children  to  us  once,  twice,  at  rare  and  long 
intervals  ;  what  do  you  wish  us  to  do  ?  Can  such 
habits  be  cured,  even  in  persons  of  mature  age,  much 
less  in  children,  except  by  very  frequent  confession  ? 
Nevertheless,  you  become  re-assured ;  you  congratu- 


SENSUALITY HOW    TO    SAVE    FROM.  1 85 

late  yourselves  :  **  Oh  !  my  son  confesses  to  Father 
So-and-so,  who  is  a  saint."  Well,  as  for  me,  I  tell 
you,  that,  with  your  method  of  directing  your  chil- 
dren, even  a  saint  could  do  nothing  for  them.  If 
you  wish  that,  this  saint  should  do  anything,  send 
your  child  to  him  frequently  and  regularly,  and  in- 
duce the  child  to  perform  with  docility  all  that  his 
confessor  desires  him.  Pardon  this  warmth  of  lan- 
guage ;  I  am  drawn  into  it  by  the  ever-recurring  re- 
membrance of  what  I  have  seen  caused  by  the  blind- 
ness and  inconsistency  of  certain  parents  on  this 
very  serious  point.  No ;  I  cannot  express  as  forcibly 
as  I  wish  how  much  constant,  attentive,  steady  solici- 
tude is  required  in  everything  on  the  part  of  parents, 
in  order  to  preserve  their  young  children  from  the 
evil  that  surrounds  and  attacks  them  on  all  sides.  I 
recapitulate.  It  is  during  the  tenderest  age  that  it  is 
necessary  to  be  warmly  solicitous  and  watchful  over 
a  young  child ;  it  is  then  that  precaution  should  be 
carried  into  the  most  trifling  details :  the  manner  of 
putting  on  his  clothes-;  the  care  of  removing  from 
him  everything  not  strictly  conformable  to  modesty ; 
to  be  careful  in  inspiring  habits  of  decency  and  re- 
spect ;  at  the  same  time,  to  keep  from  his  sight  and 
hearing  everything  that  may  be  perilous ;  to  banish 
from  the  domestic  fireside  every  loose  word,  every 
book,  every  scandalous  object ;  in  fine,  to  watch  over 
everything  that  surrounds  him  —  and  every  one  who 
approaches  him  —  servants,  companions,  relatives, 
even  brothers  and  sisters :  all  these  cares  are  neces- 
sary in  order  to  save  children,  and  present  them 
pure  and  innocent,  to  the  masters  whose  office  it  will 
16* 


1 86  THE    CHILD. 

be  to  continue  the  home  education.  And  at  last, 
when  they  must  be  confided  to  a  college  or  a  master, 
be  strict  —  very  strict  —  in  the  choice,  and  never 
relax  in  vigilance. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

curiosity;    levity;    third   source  of  defects  in 

man  and  in  the  child. 

Pride  and  sensuality  are  terrible  vices,  that  must 
be  attacked  boldly,  and  forcibly  subdued.  When  a 
soul  is  capable  of  this  struggle,  however  profoundly 
enrooted  these  vices  may  be,  nothing  is  to  be  despaired 
of ;  and,  the  efforts  of  the  teacher  meeting  with  a 
happy  concurrence  in  the  soul  of  him  whom  he 
brings  up,  the  work  of  education  is  still  possible. 
But  what  strongly  compromises  it,  what  brings  to 
it,  I  will  almost  say,  the  most  hopeless  of  obstacles, 
what  too  frequently  renders  the  most  devoted  cares, 
the  most  skilful  masters,  unavailing,  is  a  third  and 
unhappy  defect,  which  causes  everything  to  glide 
over  the  child,  and  does  not  permit  anything  to  pene- 
trate into  his  soul.  I  speak  of  levity,  daughter  of 
that  deadly  vice  which  the  apostle  names  concupis- 
cence of  the  eyes,  concitpiscentia  octilounn.  Concu- 
piscence of  the  eyes  is  to  be  met  with  in  the  child, 
in  the  young  man,  as  well  as  the  grown  man,  but 
under  a  particular  form.  In  the  child  it  is  fickle- 
ness, heedlessness,  giddy  curiostiy.  Now,  the  fickle, 
heedless,  inquisitive  soul,  open  on  all  sides,  allows 
everything  to  be  lost,  and  keeps  nothing ;  no  serious 
work  is  possible  with  it  or  in  it.     I  have  had  to 

187 


1 88  THE    CHILD. 

Struggle  very  particularly  against  this  defect.  I 
know  all  the  difficulties  it  brings  into  education ;  I 
have  been  obliged  to  combat  it,  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  in  the  children  and  in  the  masters.  I  had,  one 
year,  in  one  of  the  seminaries  that  I  directed,  among 
some  excellent  masters,  many  young  professors,  good, 
but  too  young  in  age  and  character,  heedless  on 
their  own  account,  and  also  on  account  of  the  chil- 
dren ;  thoughtless  in  mind  and  heart,  and  who  did 
not  sufficiently  understand  the  gravity  of  their  mis- 
sion, or  all  the  importance  of  their  duties.  I  had 
also  some  children  of  the  same  stamp,  who  never 
looked  seriously  on  anything  in  their  education  or 
their  life.  For  a  time  I  feared  that  the  spirit  of 
levity  was  being  introduced  into  the  house,  and 
then  all  the  rest  was  hopeless.  I  ought  to  dwell 
on  this  capital  defect,  and  hold  on  this  subject, 
addressing  all  who  require  to  hear  me  many  conver- 
sations, in  which  I  shall  apply  myself  to  make  all  the 
miseries  and  dangers  of  levity  comprehensible.  It  is, 
indeed,  very  important  that  children  should  know  it 
well.  This  defect,  the  most  usual  at  their  age,  and 
also  too  frequently  the  most  excused,  is  not  the  less 
a  fatal  defect,  and  may,  if  it  be  persisted  in,  if  it  be 
not  combated,  ruin  not  only  childhood,  but  the  whole 
life.  It  is  more  than  necessary  that  men  charged 
with  so  grave  a  work  as  education  should  understand 
all  the  gravity  and  seriousness  it  requires  on  their 
part,  and  how  incompatible  levity  of  mind  and  dispo- 
sition is  with  it.  In  fine,  I  will  add,  that  parents 
also  must  be  very  sensible  of  all  the  mature  reflec- 
tion  that  the  dignity  of  father  and  mother  claims 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  1 89 

from  those  who  bear  it,  and  that  it  cannot  rest  se- 
curely on  thoughtless  heads. 


I  say,  then,  there  is  in  the  child  a  kind  of  eager, ' 
restless  curiosity,  opening  his  eyes  and  his  desires  to 
everything,  and  which  is  exactly  characterized  by  the 
name  of  conctipiscentia  oadoi'um.  It  is  the  opening 
of  the  eyes  and  the  soul  to  everything  outside  that 
attracts  and  seduces  it ;  it  is  all  the  thoughtless,  in- 
discreet, unrestrained  inclination  of  seeing  every- 
thing ;\  it  is  an  unbridled  curiosity  for  evil  as  well  as 
good,  a  passionate  cupidity;  hence  it  is  that  love  of 
pleasure  degenerates  into  this  vice.  Moralists  also 
say,  with  reason,  that  the  concupiscence  of  the  eyes 
touches  closely  on  concupiscence  of  the  flesh.  Who 
has  not  observed,  even  among  the  most  innocent 
children,  that  love  of  amusement  and  pleasure  is 
usually  very  lively  —  the  wish  to  see  everything,  to 
hear  everything,  to  feel  everything  t  This  love  of 
pleasure,  of  enjoyment,  betrays  itself  at  first  by 
the  love  of  play,  the  passion  for  amusement,  which 
sometimes  becomes  a  frenzy  in  them.  It  is  an  early 
and  real  danger,  and  must  be  watched.  But  what  is 
most  to  be  feared  is  the  pleasure  of  the  eyes,  or  the 
desire  of  seeing  everything ;  the  pleasure  of  the  ears, 
or  the  desire  of  hearing  everything ;  the  pleasure  of 
the  taste,  or  the  desire  of  tasting  everything.  It  is 
very  dangerous  for  a  child,  or  a  young  man,  to  allow 
his  soul  to  be  thus  not  only  accessible  to  every  seduc- 
tion, but  passionately  tending  towards  them.     At  a 


1 90  THE    CHILD. 

certain  age,  especially  when  man  begins  to  be  ini- 
tiated into  the  secrets  of  life,  the  love  of  visible  ob- 
jects may,  if  the  young  man  do  not  watch  over  him- 
self with  strict  attention,  cause  a  tbousand  tyrants, 
vile  as  they  are  imperious,,  to  penetrate  him.  From 
that  time  he  will  have  lost  all  dominion  over  himself; 
he  will  be  dispossessed 'of  his  soul,  and  drawn  into  a 
whirlwind  of  illusions,  whose  plaything  he  will  un- 
ceasingly be,  until,  after  the  most  grievous  mistakes, 
after  virtue,  duty,  labor,  career,  have  all  been  sacri- 
ficed, he  falls  into  a  frightful  void.  This  passionate 
cupidity,  this  eagerness  for  seeing  everything,  this 
taste,  this  habit  of  living  and  casting  one's  self 
abroad,  usually  engenders  an  unbounded  restlessness, 
an  everlasting  dissipation,  which  hurries  away  the 
moments,  the  hours,  the  days,  the  whole  life,  of  a 
young  man.  This  love  of  pleasure,  when  it  is  not, 
as  among  young  children,  the  need  of  motion,  is,  if 
it  be  not  the  source  of  vices,  at  least  the  door  and 
entrance  for  them.  Fenelon  says,  "  It  opens  the 
soul  like  a  dismantled  fortress  to  all  the  attacks  of 
the  enemy."  When  this  defect  has  not  a  real  depth 
of  good  sense  as  a  counterpoise,  when  it  is  not  alone 
a  weakness  of  age,  which  wears  out  with  the  increase 
of  years,  but  an  inherent  vice  in  the  nature,  in  the 
character,  it  is  to  be  dreaded  beyond  measure.  I 
know  that  this  is  not  the  idea  always  entertained  of 
it ;  people  are  sometimes  deceived,  and  very  sadly  so, 
with  respect  to-lt  As  this  defect,  appears  to  belong 
more  to  the  age  than  to  the  child,  as  it  is  very  fre- 
quently accompanied  by  amiable  or  brilliant  qualities, 
they  hope  it  will  pass  away ;  while  waiting,  they  ex- 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  I9I 

it,  and  delude  themselves  as  to  its  serious  con- 
sequences. Certainly  Fenelon  did  not  take  this 
view  of  it  when  he  said  that  levity  extinguished  all 
piety,  rendered  one  incapable  of  all  serious  applica- 
tion, and  consumed  every  virtue.  For  my  part,  I 
know  few  vices  more  dangerous,  and  that  require  to 
be  more  seriously  combated ;  when  levity  becomes 
persistent,  it  is  one  of  the  most  terrible  obstacles  to 
education,  and  sometimes  the  ruin  of  an  entire  life. 
The  truth  is,  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  for  thought- 
less beings,  or  by  thoughtless  beings.  '  It  is  very 
proper  that  I  should  distinguish  the  trifling  frivolities 
of  early  age  from  that  fundamental  and  essential  de- 
fect called  levity.  Levity,  thus  understood,  is  so 
grave  an  affair  in  my  eyes,  that,  if  it  were  permissi- 
ble to  assert  that  there  are  some  children  incapable 
of  being  brought  up,  I  would  say,  without  hesitation, 
they  are  heedless  children.  And  how  will  you  bring 
up  such  natures }  All  the  labor  of  education,  all 
the  most  skilled  cares,  are  ruined  beforehand  by  this 
unfortunate  defect,  which,  as  I  have  said,  causes 
everything  to  glide  over  the  surface,  and  does  not 
allow  anything  to  penetrate  to  the  bottom.  Why  do 
I  say  to  the  bottom.?  —  there  is  no  bottom  in  them. 
A  heedless  soul  is  a  soul  open  on  all  sides,  and  closed 
nowhere  ;  the  bottom  is  wanting.  In  vain  you  lavish 
on  it  the  most  elaborate  teaching ;  it  is  a  sieve ;  all 
passes  through,  and  nothing  remains  in  it.  A  heed- 
less child  retains  nbthing,  can  do  nothing,  hears 
nothing  ;  what  will  you  do  with  such  a  child  }  It  is 
not  thus  with  other  defects.  They  may  be  attacked 
boldly,  and  conquered  after  a  sharp  struggle.     Pride 


192  THE    CHILD. 

can  be  humbled,  transformed,  and  even  sometimes  con- 
verted into  energy  for  good.  There  is  also  a  hold  on 
sensuality  —  it  may  be  combated  ;  but  a  heedless,  rest- 
less, fickle  soul,  is  it  not,  so  to  say,  unseizable  ?  For 
this  reason,  levity  is  so  much  to  be  dreaded,  and  so 
terribly  compromises,  if  it  be  neglected,  if  it  be 
allowed  to  subsist,  the  work  of  education.  By  it,  in- 
deed, all  correspondence  of  the  child  with  your  best 
cares  becomes  impossible,  and  all  your  efforts  remain 
stricken  with  sterility.  The  lamentable  results  of  this 
defect  are,  inattention,  irreflection,  inconstancy,  gid- 
diness, in  everything.  Who  has  not  remarked  what  a 
prodigious  point  incongruity  of  behavior  attains  in 
the  heedless  child  ?  We  see  him  present  a  spectacle 
of  the  most  surprising  variability ;  the  most  sudden, 
the  most  unexpected,  changes.  One  day  good,  the 
next  day  bad  ;  now  sensible,  now  relapsing  into  heed- 
lessness ;  fervent  one  moment,  lukewarm  the  next ; 
in  heaven  to-day,  perhaps  in  hell  to-morrow. 

There  are  certain  epochs  of  the  year  when  the 
atmosphere  is  unsettled  and  the  weather  variable; 
the  wind  changes  twenty  times  a  day ;  sunshine  sud- 
denly succeeds  rain  ;  then  the  clouds  soon  return  : 
we  know  not  what  to  say  of  this  weather ;  the  most 
experienced  is  at  fault.  Thus  it  is  in  a  heedless 
child  or  man  ;  we  can  never  know  an  instant  be- 
forehand what  he  will  be,  or  what  he  will  do  the  mo- 
ment after.  Just  now,  he  was  possessed  by  a  mad 
gayety ;  at  present,  behold  him  sad  and  gloomy  to 
excess.  What  has  happened  to  him .''  We  know 
not  what  idea  has  crossed  his  mind,  and  there  is  a 
cloud  over  his   countenance ;  the  thurider  will  soon 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  I93 

kirst  forth,  with  a  torrent  of  rain ;  but  this  emotion 
will  soon  pass  away  —  nothing  is  profound  in  a  heed- 
less soul ;  the  instant  after  you  will  see  him  plunge 
into  a  madcap  joy.  A  poor  soul,  given  up  to  curi- 
osity, to  levity,  is  really  like  the  waves  of  the  sea, 
delivered  up  to  every  wind.  It  is  easy  to  understand 
that  nothing  steady,  nothing  serious,  is  possible  in 
such  a  soul.  Not  a  germ  of  virtue,  not  a  principle, 
can  take  root  there;  it  is  not  only  an  unstable  earth, 
a  moving  sand,  it  is  the  mobility  of  a  shadow.  Plant 
a  tree  in  the  sea ;  assuredly  it  will  not  strike  root 
there,  nor  will  it  give  you  fruit.  Fatal  to  study, 
fatal  to  virtue,  fatal  to  the  future ;  behold,  imprudent 
parents  or  masters,  this  levity  of  childhood,  which 
causes  you  no  anxiety,  and  which,  perhaps,  you  find 
even  amiable,  and  worthy  of  every  indulgence  !  You 
intend  to  make  a  heedless  child  study  ;  but  what  prog- 
ress will  he  make  ?  He  hears  not,  he  reflects  not ; 
neither  does  he  seize  or  retain  anything;  all  your 
explanations,  all  your  lessons,  fall  to  the  ground  for 
him.  And  what  progress  will  he  make  in  virtue  ? 
Virtue  is  energy,  is  constancy ;  such  a  nature  is  in- 
capable of  effort,  and  especially  of  persevering  effort. 
His  virtue,  if  he  has  any,  comes  and  goes  by  fits  and 
starts.  He  may  have  some  aims  towards  good,  but 
he  soon  falls  back  into  the  restlessness  and  vulgarity 
of  his  habitual  conduct.  His  good  resolutions  are 
not  sustained ;  they  vanish  on  the  first  occasion. 
Virtue  dwells  in  the  soul,  in  the  depths  of  the  child  ; 
but,  according  to  the  words  of  the  Gospel,  all  is  on 
the  surface,  nothing  is  deep-rooted,  in  a  heedless 
child :  Non  habet  radicem,  sed  est  temporaneus :  he 
17 


194  THE    CHILD. 

has  no  root,  everything  is  ephemeral  in  him.  And, 
at  the  same  time,  the  power  of  running  to  waste  is 
frightful  in  heedless  souls ;  how  they  can  squander 
the  gifts  of  God,  graces,  faculties,  natural  and  super- 
natural means,  is  not  possible  to  describe.  It  is  to 
these  sad  natures  that  the  words  of  St.  Bernard  most 
properly  apply :  "  Vases  full  of  flaws,  which  let 
everything  escape" — Pleni  rimarum,  undeqiiaque 
dijlitiimis.  What  serious  future  can  be  prepared 
in  this  condition  }  and  how  sorrowful  it  is  to  see 
these  poor  children  going  on,  with  a  smile  on  their 
lips,  and  I  know  not  how  much  careless  gayety  in 
their  hearts,  to  the  ruin  of  their  life,  and  perhaps  of 
their  eternal  future  !  Ah  !  unfortunate  young  man, 
you  laugh,  you  jest,  unceasingly ;  you  thus  abuse  the 
most  useful  talents,  losing  every  day  the  most  valu- 
able time  of  your  every- day  life  in  frivolities,  in 
nonsense,  when  it  is  not  in  errors.  Nevertheless, 
your  education  is  not  progressing,  your  defects 
become  strengthened,  your  virtues  lost,  your  piety 
extinguished ;  graces  dry  up,  time  flows  on,  the 
kingdom  of  God  escapes  you  :  where  are  you  going  .'* 
Nevertheless,  God  had  designs  for  you.  Perhaps 
He  had  given  you  a  high  vocation ;  what  has  be- 
come of  it  1  Ah !  you  laugh ;  as  for  me,  I  weep  — 
I  weep  over  the  abuse  of  gifts  from  God,  over 
the  waste  of  graces,  over  the  sorrowful  lowering 
of  your  soul  and  your  life.  I  weep  over  a  lost 
man.  Yes,  you  might  have  become  a  man,  a  laborer 
for  God  in  society  or  in  the  church,  and  you  will 
never  be  but  a  silly,  vulgar  being,  of  a  fruitless 
and  barren   mediocrity.      Ah !    you  will   make    God 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  I95 

and  yourself  bankrupt.     Is  there  a  greater  misfor- 
tune in  the  world  ? 


^»    rier 


II. 


The  great  evil  to  young  people  is  in  not  being  suffi- 
ciently brought  into  contact  with  mature  age ;  in  not 
considering  sufficiently  that  they  ought  one  day  to 
be  men,  and  that  the  man  will  have  to  suffer  a  long 
time,  perhaps  always,  for  the  faults  of  the  child. 
The  great  injury  done  by  parents  and  masters  is 
in  not  sufficiently  pointing  out  the  future  seriousness 
of  life,  its  labors,  its  duties,  its  dangers.  They  fool- 
ishly say,  **  Levity  lasts  but  for  a  time;  it  passes 
away;  it  is  only  a  matter  of  patience;  let  us  wait." 
That  is  a  great  error.  Without  doubt,  levity  is  es- 
pecially a  defect  of  childhood ;  setting  aside  the  re- 
sults of  it,  it  may  be  corrected,  and  age  will  much 
assist ;  but  age  alone  will  not  correct  it.  Levity, 
when  one  does  not  begin  seriously  with  it,  becomes 
strengthened  by  habit,  changed  into  a  second  nature, 
clings  to  one  through  life,  and  is  never  to  be  got  rid 
of.  A  heedless  child,  if  he  be  not  corrected  in  child- 
hood, becomes  a  fickle  man,  still  more  incorrigible, 
and  nothing  can  be  more  disastrous.  For  what  is  he 
but  a  fickle  man }  Is  he  brought  up  a  man  ?  is  he 
even  a  man  ?  does  he  deserve  to  get  that  name } 
Perhaps  he  is  a  magistrate,  a  priest,  the  father  of  a 
family :  but  if  he  be  the  plaything  of  inconstancy 
and  perpetual  restlessness ;  if  he  never  lay  himself 
down  to  anything,  and  unceasingly  change ;  if  he 
never  resemble  himself ;  if  he  never  be  on  the  mor- 


196  THE   CHILD. 

row  what  he  was  the  day  before  —  what  do  I  say,  if 
he  vary  from  hour  to  hour,  from  moment  to  moment, 
who  can  count  on  him,  for  ah  instant,  in  anything  ? 
Well,  there  are  some  men  who  are  thus  all  their  life, 
because  they  were  left  so  in  childhood ;  inattentive, 
thoughtless,  whimsical,  restless,  without  steadiness 
or  consistency ;  like  the  leaf  swept  away  by  the 
wind,  like  wave  driven  by  wave,  or  the  bird  borne  on 
by  the  caprice  of  his  wing.  I  ask,  are  these  men  ? 
and  if  levity,  which,  after  having  ruined  education 
and  childhood,  may  ruin  the  whole  life,  is  a  matter  to 
be  neglected  ?  or,  rather,  is  it  not  during  the  entire 
life  one  of  the  most  menacing  dangers  .-*  In  fine, 
what  is  such  a  life  ?  who  governs  it  ^  is  it  the  fickle 
man  who  governs  his  life }  No ;  he  is  governed 
from  the  outside  by  circumstances,  by  the  thou- 
sand incidents  of  each  hour;  or,  rather,  he  is  not 
governed ;  he  is  pushed,  tossed  about  by  chance : 
once  more,  such  a  man  is  a  plaything,  the  incon- 
sistent and  fragile  plaything  of  every  one  and  every- 
thing;  he  has  been  compared,  and  not  without 
reason,  to  a  dancing-jack,  which  acts  at  will  by  he 
knows  not  what  thread  moved  by  a  strange  hand. 
What  dignity,  what  honor,  can  rest  on  him  ?  Where 
is  his  gravity,  his  earnestness,  his  capacity,  his  firm- 
ness—  where  are  his  anchors,  or  his  helm.?  What 
foundation  can  be  made  on  such  a  man  ?  To  count 
on  him,  to  found  anything  on  him,  is  to  count  on  the 
wind,  to  build  on  water  or  sand ;  to  count  himself  as 
some  one,  to  expect  of  him  reflection,  foresight,  re- 
sults of  energy  or  will,  any  perseverance  whatsoever, 
would  be  to  take  him  for  a  man,  and  he  is,  alas !  but 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  IQ/ 

a  child.  The  Holy  Scripture  speaks  somewhere  of 
the  child  of  a  hundred  years,  Piier  centum  annoriLin. 
Well,  yes,  there  are  some  men,  who,  even  in  mature 
age,  even  with  gray  hairs,  have  not  yet  come  out  of 
childhood,  who  .are  always  children,  on  account  of 
the  levity,  the  thoughtlessness,  the  restlessness,  the 
caprice,  the  weakness,  and  the  inconsistency,  of  their 
character,  Piter  centtim  annonim.  The  Scripture 
adds  a  terrible  word,  Puer  centum  anjioriim  peribit 
—  ''The  child  of  a  hundred  years  shall  perish!" 
Yes,  he  shall  perish ;  the  perils  to  which  levity  of 
disposition  exposes  him  are  frightful  and  number- 
less ;  perils  for  the  honor  and  dignity  of  life ;  perils 
for  the  soul ;  perils  for  himself ;  perils  for  others 
also,  if  he  be  not  advised  and  guided  by  others.  A 
frivolous  man  never  appreciates  anything  at  its  value ; 
he  treats  the  most  serious,  even  the  most  holy,  matters 
lightly ;  he  jests,  he  foolishly  laughs,  at  everything. 
Look  at  him ;  he  has  railed  at  such  a  man,  such  an 
action,  such  a  virtue.  Did  he  understand  well  what 
he  did,  what  he  said  }  No  ;  but,  nevertheless,  he  has 
Slid  and  he  has  done  it ;  he  has  sent  forth  this  raillery, 
this  sarcasm,  this  satirical  speech ;  has  he  foreseen 
where  it  may  be  borne  }  does  he  know  that  this  speech 
is  going,  perhaps,  like  a  keen  arrow,  to  pierce  a  heart 
that  he  loves,  bring  discredit  on  one  whom  he  es- 
teems, compromise  a  work  in  which  he  is  interested } 
how  do  we  know,  perhaps  to  scandalize  and  ruin  a 
soul }  No  ;  he  did  not  think  of  it ;  but,  nevertheless, 
the  words  have  been  said  and  the  injury  perpetrated. 
How  many  of  the  accidents  and  misfortunes  of  life 
are  the  result  of  thoughtlessness  and  levity !  They 
17* 


198  THE    CHILD. 

will  say  afterwards,  '*  I  did  not  dream  of  it."  Well, 
it  is  precisely  there  they  are  wrong.  Is  it  that  it  is 
not  necessary  to  consider  these  matters  ?  What  is 
levity  but  absence  of  thought.^  and  why  have  intelli- 
gence, reason,  reflection,  been  given  to  him  ? 

It  is  not  necessary  that  levity,  to  create  calamities, 
should  be  inspired  by  spitefulness ;  it  may  be  met 
with  in  souls  otherwise  most  talented  ;  but  it  fetters, 
it  paralyzes,  it  sometimes  destroys  the  best  gifts ; 
when  it  comes  in  the  way  of  great  deeds,  pure  and 
tender  acts,  noble  affections,  nothing  is  more  deplora- 
ble and  more  grievous  to  see.  From  levity  springs 
frequently,  without  any  interior  malice,  a  spirit  of 
playful  scoffing,  which  prevents  the  earnest  attention 
and  deep  penetration  of  the  mind  being  brought  to 
bear  upon  matters  that  most  need  being  felt  and 
deeply  enjoyed.  I  say,  without  any  evil  intention  —  I 
mistake ;  for  this  levity  necessarily  implies  a  certain 
want  of  heart.  A  better  heart,  a  stronger,  a  more 
elevated  mind,  would  not  have  such  levity.  We  can 
never,  no,  never,  feel  secure  with  respect  to  a  frivo- 
lous man ;  we  must  tremble  every  moment,  lest  we 
see  him  commit  some  serious  folly.  Such  a  man 
does  nothing  so  quickly  as  commit  himself  to  a  folly. 
He  is  unceasingly  driven,  by  want  of  thought,  pre- 
cipitation, a  moment  of  temper,  a  whim,  a  transport 
of  passion,  into  indiscreet,  imprudent  steps,  the  con- 
sequences of  which  he  has  not  calculated ;  he  soon 
perceives  that  he  has  rashly  entangled  himself,  taken 
a  false  course,  placed  himself  in  a  wrong  path ;  he 
sees  it,  but  he  is  there  —  the  evil  is  done.  He  has 
passed  for  a  good  priest,  and  a  moment  of  forgetful- 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  I99 

ness  has  sufficed  to  make  him  lose  his  reputation,  the 
fruits  of  his  ministry,  public  confidence.  He  should 
have  reflected,  and  said  within  himself,  "  Whither 
will  this  word  reach  ?  whither  will  this  step,  this  con- 
nection, this  companionship,  this  habit,  lead  me  ? " 
But  the  maxim  of  ancient  philosophy,  /;/  omnibus 
respice Ji?iein,  seems  to  have  no  existence  for  heedless 
souls ;  as  incapable  of  reflection  as  of  foresight  or  of 
resistance,  they  go  on  by  chance,  they  follow  an  im- 
pulse, they  give  themselves  up  to  a  whim,  a  transport, 
an  intoxication !  Behold  them  accumulating  impru- 
dence upon  imprudence,  rashness  upon  rashness,  folly 
upon  folly  !  We  may  say,  like  a  madman  who  recedes 
and  dances  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  or  who 
balances  himself  on  a  swing,  suspended  by  a  thread, 
over  an  abyss,  a  spring  seems  to  raise  him  to  the 
sky ;  suddenly  he  falls  back  with  all  his  weight  into 
the  abyss ;  this  terrible  play  cannot  last  long.  His 
head  turns,  he  falls,  and  into  what  a  gulf !  This  is 
the  story  of  an  infinite  number  of  men  and  young 
people.  Confide  any  serious  affair  to  a  thoughtless 
man,  you  may  fear  everything.  He  will  compromise 
it  by  a  thousand  inadvertencies,  and  will  infallibly 
cause  it  to  fail.  A  frivolous  man  does  not  under- 
stand what  responsibilities  are;  he  does  not  see  what 
the  serious  concern  he  is  charged  with  claims  from 
him,  what  he  owes  to  it ;  and,  instead  of  sacrificing  to 
the  serious  business  which  he  has  to  perform  other 
matters  less  important,  he  will  sacrifice  all  that  is 
most  serious  to  frivolities.  Ah  !  the  earnest  man  — 
the  man  who  understands  the  bearing  of  matters,  and 
treats  them  according  to  their  bearing ;  who  knows 


200  THE    CHILD. 

what  it  is  to  have  a  command,  a  mission,  to  be 
intrusted  with  a  confidence,  —  and  how  much  dis- 
cretion, how  much  attention,  how  much  dihgence, 
and  frequently  even  what  sacrifices,  the  great  af- 
fairs of  life  claim  from  him,  —  here  is  the  man  on 
whom  we  may  count ;  but  let  us  never  count  on  a 
thoughtless  soul,  who  does  not  attach  to  these  mat- 
ters the  importance  they  merit,  and  does  not  know 
how  to  treat  them  with  the  discretion  and  the  deli- 
cacy, with  the  application,  the  promptitude,  the  per- 
severance, and  the  devotion,  they  require. 

And  what  danger  if  a  frivolous  man  mix  himself 
in  the  management  of  others !  Now,  unfortunately, 
it  happens  that  men  of  character,  incapable  of  guid- 
ing themselves,  have  —  in  consequence  of  their  levity 
and  this  habit  of  not  regarding  matters  seriously,  of 
not  weighing  the  gravity  of  duties  —  nevertheless 
the  mania  of  meddling  in  the  management  of  others, 
rashly  advising  and  deciding  with  a  peremptory  tone, 
with  as  much  self-possession  as  ignorance,  and  taking 
the  helm  in  hand,  without  any  mistrust  of  them- 
selves, without  suspecting  even  difficulties.  What 
guides  !  "  Woe,"  says  the  Scripture,  ''  to  the  town 
whose  prince  is  a  child" —  Vce  civitati  ciijiis  rex piier 
est !  He  is  an  insane  pilot  who  consults  the  weath- 
ercock of  the  vessel  instead  of  the  compass;  who 
looks  to  the  deceitful  lights  of  the  shore,  instead  of 
guiding  himself  by  the  regular  course  of  the  stars, 
following  brilliant,  but  irregular,  ephemeral  meteors, 
and  cannot  avoid  causing  a  shipwreck.  And,  if  this 
levity  be  met  with  in  a  man  whose  office  it  is  to  di- 
rect souls,  what  a  still  greater  misfortune ! 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  201 

Let  youth,  especially  those  being  brought  up  for 
the  priesthood,  understand  well  —  let  those  who  arc 
charged  with  their  education  not  leave  them  igno- 
rant—  that  the  levities  of  early  age  cling  to  the  man 
all  his  life,  that  he  brings  them  everywhere  with  him. 
(The  priest,  if  he  come  into  the  world  with  this 
moral  weakness,  and  if  a  firm,  clerical  education  do 
not  rid  him  of  it,  will  carry  it  into  the  functions  of 
his  priesthood,  into  his  most  delicate  relations  with 
men,  and  even  into  that  dreaded  ministry,  of  which 
it  is  said,  Ars  artiiim  regimen  animariim.  What 
a  pastor,  alas !  what  a  director  of  souls,  he  will  be ! 
Behold  whither  levity  of  disposition  may  conduct 
one  !  And  what  is  still  more  terrible  for  men  of  this 
stamp  is,  they  are  ignorant  of  the  wrong  they  do  to 
themselves  and  others ;  they  have  not  even  a  suspi- 
cion of  the  faults  they  accumulate,  the  misfortunes 
they  cause.  By  the  deplorable  habit  which  makes 
them  treat  everything  lightly,  even  their  souls,  their 
conscience,  their  business,  and  their  duties,  and  never 
seriously  interrogate  or  examine  themselves,  they 
may  find  themselves  without  their  knowledge  in  the 
most  grievous  state  before  God,  and  charged  with 
the  most  dreadful  responsibilities.  So  also,  in  life, 
they  may  allow  themselves  to  be  drawn  farther 
than  they  would  ever  wish  to  go,  if  they  had  origi- 
nally foreseen  the  consequences.  Levity  is  usually 
the  dupe  and  slave  of  the  malice  of  others,  who 
make  use  of  it  for  their  own  ends ;  it  is  the  instru- 
ment, and  the  culpable  instrument,  rather  the  first 
cause,  of  crime.  We  sometimes  think  that  the  un- 
fortunates who  give  great  scandals  are  perverse  souls, 


202  THE    CHILD. 

villains.  Well,  no !  Frequently  they  are  but  heed- 
less, weak  souls,  who  are  found,  in  some  delicate 
occasion,  with  strong  passions  unmortified,  or  who 
have  been  drawn  on  by  others. 

In  the  great  French  Revolution,  notorious  crimes 
were  committed  by  thoughtless  minds,  directed  by 
monsters.  The  worst  of  characters  is  that  of  not 
having  one.  Every  one,  except  a  sensible  man,  can 
make  a  frivolous  man  do  all  he  wishes.  It  is  right 
to  say,  that,  in  general,  man  is  still  more  weak  than 
corrupt ;  he  almost  always  has  more  of  levity  than 
of  malice.  Do  you  believe,  that,  were  it  not  for  this 
terrible  levity,  a  young  man  would  have  committed 
such  an  enormous  fault  ?  No ;  he  has  too  good  a 
heart,  too  upright  a  mind ;  but  he  did  not  reflect, 
and  he  could  not  resist.  Do  you,  likewise,  believe 
that  this  father,  this  mother,  of  a  family,  this  honor- 
able man,  this  magistrate,  this  priest,  would,  but  for 
want  of  thought,  but  for  levity,  have  fallen  into  such 
forgetfulness  of  himself  and  his  duties.-*  No;  a 
thousand  times  no,  never !  Fatal  levity,  which  con- 
ducts men  into  paths  they  would  not  wish  to  tread ! 
which  brings  misfortune  on  families,  shame  on  life, 
dishonor  on  religion !  Fatal  levity,  which  ruins 
more  men  even  than  wickedness  does !  Yet  it  must 
be  said,  however  frivolous  and  superficial  a  soul  may 
be,  there  is  something  grievously  profound  in  it ;  it 
is  the  indestructible  root  of  the  three  great  concu- 
piscences. Levity  may  cover  them,  but  they  are 
there,  and  one  moment  or  other  may  break  out;  it  is 
thus  we  see  light,  soft  earth  cover  and  secrete,  under 
ephemeral  flowers,  infectious  sinks  and  smouldering 


CURIOSITY,    LEVITY,    ETC.  203 

volcanoes.  This  dreadful  peril  must  be  averted  by 
education  at  any  price ;  pointed  out  and  combated  in 
every  way  by  those  whose  task  it  is  to  bring  up  men 
for  society  and  for  the  church. 

It  is  that  to  which,  I  am  happy  to  remark,  the  rule 
of  an  educational  establishment  is  admirably  suited  ; 
for  it  is  rule  that  restrains  and  supports ;  it  is  rule 
that  steadies  these  restless  natures,  which  accustoms 
them  to  effort,  obliges  them  to  watch  and  conquer 
themselves ;  which  gives  them  order,  perseverance, 
constancy,  self-possession,  earnestness.  But  Chris- 
tian fervor  and  piety,  still  more  than  rule,  is  su- 
premely efficacious  here.  Indeed,  solid  piety  gives 
to  frivolous  souls  habits  capable  of  counterbalancing 
and  neutralizing,  at  least  partly,  this  terrible  defect ; 
to  wit,  habits  of  reflection  and  habits  of  mortifica- 
tion. Hence,  by  the  serious  thoughts  that  a  sincere 
practice  of  piety  inspires,  by  the  efforts  it  incites  to 
and  sustains,  the  two  great  deficiencies  which  give 
room  to  levity  in  a  soul  are  supplied.  And  it  is  thus, 
as  we  have  unceasingly  stated,  that  piety  is,  in  all 
things,  the  greatest  resource  of  education  —  Pietas 
ad  omnia  titilis  est. 

But  in  order  to  make  use  of  and  sustain  these  two 
great  and  powerful  means,  to  aid  in  the  constant  ob- 
servation of  rule,  and  to  nourish  fervent  piety,  that 
which  is  again  and  above  all  necessary  here  is  the 
watchful,  assiduous,  paternal  care  of  the  masters. 
For  if  they  do  not  follow  attentively  these  poor  na- 
tures of  children,  given  up  to  themselves,  they  will 
make  no  progress  in  anything.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  if  I  be  permitted  to  say  it,  a  very  particular  rea- 


204  THE    CHILD. 

son  claims  for  thoughtless  children  these  special  cares. 
They  are  ill,  and  their  malady  has  something  less  re- 
pulsive in  it  than  haughty  pride  or  shameful  sensual- 
ity. The  most  interesting,  the  most  amiable,  class  of 
invalids,  still  more  to  be  pitied  than  blamed,  how 
much  of  the  tenderest  interest  becomes  attached  to 
those  souls  which  rush  on,  inconsiderately  and  jest- 
ingly, to  their  ruin !  How  much  of  the  most  affec- 
tionate and  most  constant  cares  may  be  always  lav- 
ished on  them,  and  we  may  frequently  have  the 
consolation  of  seeing  that  these  cares  have  not  been 
useless ! 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

OF    THE    CHILD,  AND     OF    THE     RESPECT     DUE    TO    THE 
LIBERTY    OF    HIS    NATURE. 

I  HAVE  said  the  child  himself  should  labor,  by  a 
personal  concurrence,  by  a  free,  spontaneous,  gener- 
ous action,  in  the  great  work  of  his  education ;  it  is 
the  law  of  Nature  and  of  Providence.  This  concur- 
rence of  the  child  is  so  necessary,  that  no  education 
can  be  carried  on  without  it ;  and  no  assistance,  no 
foreign  teacher,  however  clever  and  devoted  he  may 
be,  can  ever  supply  it.  Whatever  one  may  do,  he 
will  never  bring  up  a  child  without  himself,  or  in 
spite  of  himself.  He  must  make  him  willing  to  be 
educated ;  he  must  cause  him  to  do  it  for  himself 
and  by  himself.  This  child  is  not  a  passive  and  in- 
active being,  a  shrub,  a  plant.  No ;  he  is  an  intelli- 
gent and  thinking  creature.  Again,  take  care,  the 
plant  itself  has  an  innate  principle  of  vegetation,  a 
sap,  a  germ,  a  root  of  life.  It  is  but  dead  wood  that 
can  be  shaped  and  fashioned  without  caution,  with- 
out consulting  it,  without  expecting  anything  of  it. 
The  child  that  you  bring  up  is  not  a  dead  wood;  he 
is  a  sublime  being,  capable  of  truth  and  virtue,  of 
knowledge  and  love ;  he  is  an  active,  powerful,  su- 
preme creature :  gifted  with  conscience  and  liberty, 
he  should  necessarily  act  in  his  own  development. 
i8  205 


206  THE    CHILD. 

This  action,  this  concurrence,  is  essentially  free ;  it 
may,  it  ought  to  be  stimulated,  sustained,  encour- 
aged ;  it  ought  not  to  be  constrained  or  forced. 

The  beautiful  and  holy  teachings  of  Christianity 
as  to  the  liberty  of  man,  as  to  his  noble  destiny,  and 
the  respect  which  is  due  to  him,  may  be  seriously 
and  profoundly  applied  here.  Indeed,  the  most 
active  principle  in  the  child,  the  most  energetic,  the 
most  fertile  for  his  education,  is  human  liberty ;  yet 
on  one  condition ;  which  is,  that  it  be  respected. 
Respected  as  is  proper,  governed  without  violence, 
directed  with  wisdom,  the  liberty,  the  personal  action, 
of  the  child  becomes,  under  the  blessed  influence  of 
Divine  Grace  and  the  authority  which  presides  over 
his  education,  the  admirable  resource,  the  soul,  the 
life,  of  this  entire  education.  In  a  word,  as  I  have 
already  had  occasion  to  remark,  in  education  what 
the  teacher  does  himself  is  a  trifling  matter;  what 
he  causes  to  be  done  is  everything :  I  mean  that 
which  he  causes  to  be  done  freely.  Once  more, 
whosoever  does  not  understand  this,  understands 
nothing  of  the  work  of  human  education. 

The  education  of  the  son  of  Louis  XIV.,  by  Bos- 
suet,  offers  a  sad  and  memorable  example  of  this. 
Bossuet  wrote  great  works,  admirable  works,  for  the 
education  of  the  Dauphin. i  He  did  not  make  him 
do  anything,  not  even  indifferently,  —  the  education 
was  null.  Without  doubt,  it  was  not  the  teacher  was 
wanting  to  the  pupil,  but  the  pupil  to  the  teacher. 


1  Among  others,  the  "  Discourse  on  Universal  History  "  and  "  Sa- 
cred Politics." 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    NATURE.  20/ 

Bossuet  did  not  perceive  it  soon  enough.  The  son 
of  Louis  XIV.  had  a  vulgar  nature  ;  it  was  too 
magnificently  cultivated :  such  elevated  care  and 
strong  culture  stifled  it.  Bossuet  was  too  grand  for 
him ;  and  that  great  man  was  deceived  here  by  his 
own  genius  ;  he  labored  for  posterity  while  suppos- 
ing he  was  laboring  for  that  child.  If  Bossuet  had 
had  as  much  flexibility  of  mind  and  patience  as  he 
had  strength  and  greatness,  he  would  have  descended 
to  the  level  of  that  feeble  intelligence ;  he  would 
have  caused  it  to  do  what  it  was  capable  of :  that  was 
not  done,  and  we  know  the  results.  The  memoirs 
of  the  time  tell  us,  that  the  Dauphin,  at  more  than 
forty  years  of  age,  son  of  that  King  of  France  whom 
the  Emperors  of  Germany  called  "The  King,"  and 
father  of  a  King  of  Spain,  passed  entire  days  lean- 
ing on  his  elbows,  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  naked  table, 
stopping  his  ears.  His  youth  had  thus  flowed  on 
under  the  teachings  of  Bossuet.  He  had  been  sen- 
sible of  the  presence  of  this  immense  genius  only  by 
the  weariness  and  uneasiness  that  his  early  years 
and  feeble  nature  experienced  from  it.  The  too 
powerful  teacher  had  wearied  and  disheartened  him. 
In  the  same  manner,  later  on,  the  Dauphin  lived  in 
the  grand  age,  and  he  only  perceived  it  by  the  re- 
straint and  formality  of  his  sad  existence.  This  de- 
plorable indifference  accompanied  him  even  to  the 
end  of  his  insignificant  career.  Such  was  the  result 
of  an  education,  where,  according  to  the  expression 
of  Cardinal  Beausset,  ''  the  teacher  was  everything, 
and  the  pupil  nothing."  Never  has  example  proved 
in  a  more  decisive  manner  what  I  said  just  now,  and 


208  THE    CHILD. 

which  I  repeat,  that  in  education,  what  the  teacher 
does  is  a  trifling  matter;  what  he  causes  to  be  done 
is  everything.  I  always  understand  what  he  causes 
to  be  done  freely.  No  doubt,  evil  must  be  repressed ; 
but  never  force  nor  compel  one  violently  to  be  good ; 
it  is  otherwise  no  longer  good.  Stimulate,  dispose, 
exhort  them  to  be  good ;  but  never  force  them. 
Violent  constraint  in  education,  as  elsewhere,  injures 
the  development  of  nature ;  that  is  to  say,  the  very 
work  it  should  perform  well.  If  there  are  so  few 
successful  educations,  it  is  because  there  are  so  few 
really  free,  spontaneous,  generous,  as  it  is  fitting  they 
should  be.  I  do  not  fear  to  say,  the  great  evil  of 
education  in  France,  during  these  fifty  years,  is,  that 
it  is  deficient  in  freedom.  The  liberty  of  the  child 
is  not  respected.  Intellectual  liberty,  moral  liberty, 
all  is  constrained. 

The  law  of  Nature,  the  law  of  Providence,  every- 
thing, is  despised.  Have  we  not  heard  the  pres- 
ent century  proclaim  and  set  up  in  principle  this 
strange  assertion,  that  French  youth  ought  to  be 
cast  in  a  mould,  and  struck  like  a  piece  of  money 
with  the  same  effigy  .'*  I  have  already  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  refuting  these  sad  words  and  the  fatal 
error  contained  in  them,  no  doubt  unknown  to  those 
who  uttered  them  ;  but  I  will  say  frankly,  the  more 
I  meditate  on  them,  the  less  I  comprehend  them; 
the  more  they  obscure,  in  my  eyes,  all  that  is  noble, 
elevated,  ideal,  delicate,  free,  divine,  in  the  work  of 
education.  I  find  the  vulgarity  of  this  image  repug- 
nant to  our  beautiful  French  tongue.  And,  never- 
theless, is   it  not  there .?     What  have  they  tried   to 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    NATURE.  2O9 

realize  with  violence  among  us  ?  It  is  not  alone  the 
liberty  of  families,  their  primitive  and  inviolable 
rights,^  that  have  been  despised ;  it  is  also,  it  is  es- 
pecially, the  liberty  and  sacred  rights  of  childhood. 
As  for  me,  I  declare,  while  I  can  occupy  myself,  at 
home  or  abroad,  with  the  education  of  youth,  I  will 
respect  human  liberty  still  more  religiously  in  the 
smallest  child  than  in  the  grown  man  ;  because  this 
latter  will,  at  least,  know  how  to  defend  himself 
against  me  ;  the  child  cannot.  No ;  never  will  I  out- 
rage childhood  to  the  extent  of  considering  it  as  a 
matter  that  I  can  cast  in  a  mould,  in  order  that  it 
should  come  out  with  the  imprint  my  will  would 
give  it. 

The  child,  regarding  him  from  our  point  of  view, 
is  man  himself;  the  depositary  of  all  the  gifts,  all 
the  hopes,  all  the  dawning  powers,  of  humanity, 
clothed  with  every  grace,  every  energy,  every  human 
dignity.  Behold  what  must  be  respected  !  But  you 
say,  He  is  so  weak  !  It  is  a  serious  error ;  you  do 
not  know  him ;  he  is  stronger  than  you.  Besides, 
were  he  as  weak  as  you  say,  he  should  still  be,  his 
weakness  especially  should  be,  respected.  His 
power,  also,  must  be  respected.  It  is  not  to  be 
despised.  This  child,  weak  as  he  is,  may  conquer 
you.  You  can  strike  him,  you  can  crush  him  ;  he  is 
not  conquered ;  it  is  you  who  are :  his  will,  his  soul, 
invincibly  resist  you;  and  you  have  done  nothing 
but  a  stupid  and  barbarous  action  !  As  for  him,  he 
will  despise  and  hate  you.  And  what  can  you  do  to 
hinder  him  from  despising  and  hating  you.?     I  un- 

1  M.  Guizot. 
18* 


2IO  THE    CHILD. 

derstand  you ;  you  reply  to  me,  that  you  have  the 
resource  of  hating  and  despising  him  in  your  turn. 
That  is  much  ;  but  what  will  you  gain  by  it  ?  You 
will,  on  account  of  his  money,  perhaps,  continue  to 
bring  him  up ;  but,  when  the  youth  of  a  great  coun- 
try shall  have  been  brought  up  in  this  fashion,  what 
will  the  country  gain  by  it  ?  No ;  I  have  hardly 
ever  seen  a  greater  display  of  moral  'force  than  that 
which  the  weakest  children  have  exerted  against 
those  of  their  masters,  who  knew  only  how  to  con- 
strain them  with  violence  in  their  childhood.  There 
are  sometimes  in  these  young  souls  depths  of  con- 
tempt, frightful  in  their  simplicity  and  justice.  It 
is,  of  all  human  contempts,  that  which  I  should  least 
wish  to  face. 

From  the  beginning  of  my  priesthood.  Providence 
devoted  me  to  the  work  of  education.  The  chief  sen- 
timent that  I  then  brought  into  the  accomplishment 
of  my  duties  towards  children  was  a  warm  affection 
for  their  age  ;  I  loved  them  tenderly  ;  I  could  not  meet 
a  child  of  twelve  years  old  without  experiencing  an 
involuntary  emotion ;  without  thinking  how  happy  I 
should  be  if  I  were  called  to  cultivate  his  mind  and 
his  heart ;  if  I  could  teach  him  to  love  God  and  vir- 
tue, and,  especially,  prepare  him  for  his  first  Com- 
munion. To-day,  after  twenty-five  years  of  devotion 
to  this  work,  when  I  ask  myself.  What  is  the,  most 
profound  sentiment  that  I  have  carried  away  from 
it  and  preserve  ?  I  discover  it  is  the  sentiment  of 
respect  for  childhood.  Yes ;  what  I  particularly 
learned  during  these  pleasant  and  laborious  years  is 
to  respect  children.     I  will  say  more,  —  and  those  of 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    NATURE.  211 

them  who  may  read  these  pages  will  not  take  offence 
at  these  words,  when  they  shall  have  well  understood 
them,  —  I  have  learned  to  fear  them.  The  respect 
with  which  any  child,  whatsoever  he  may  be,  inspires 
me  at  present,  and  I  feel  this  impression  is  hence- 
forth ineffaceable  in  my  soul,  is  a  religious  respect, 
mixed  with  fear,  at  the  sight  of  these  young  and 
powerful  creatures,  whose  faculties  are  so  free,  so 
strong,  so  invincible.  This  sentiment  has  become 
almost  a  weakness  of  mind  and  character  in  me. 
But  no ;  I  am  wrong  in  saying  it ;  there  is  no  trace 
of  weakness  here.  It  is  true,  I  can  no  longer  see  a 
child  of  three  years  without  experiencing  a  certain 
terror,  without  reflecting  profoundly  on  him,  without 
considering  that  his  will  is  independent  of  mine. 
Actually,  young  as  he  is,  he  can  exercise  his  will 
without  me,  in  spite  of  me,  against  me.  He  may  be 
killed,  but  he  cannot  be  compelled  to  will  in  spite  of 
himself.  What  is  he  to  speak  of —  a  child  of 
three  years  ?  and  what  matters  three  years  more  or 
less  ?  He  has  my  nature,  he  has  yours ;  he  is 
human  nature  entire.  He  is  a  superior  being,  gifted 
like  you  and  me;  your  likeness  and  mine,  a  power 
equal  to  ours.  Ah  !  you  count  this  child  as  nothing  ; 
he  amuses  you ;  you  play  with  his  rising  will ;  you 
constrain  it  without  reason,  or  you  yield  to  it  with- 
out prudence.  Well,  in  this  dreaded  play  you  will 
be  vanquished,  and  you  will  learn  sooner  or  later,  at 
your  own  expense,  what  a  fault  it  is  to  treat  a  child 
with  levity,  and  without  respect,  or  rather  with  harsh- 
ness, and  without  love.  As  for  me,  I  do  not  know  of 
a  greater  disorder,  and  I  willingly  repeat  this   speech 


212  THE    CHILD. 

of  a  philosopher  :  "  No  ;  there  is  no  being  more  deli- 
cate and  more  sensitive ;  no  one  whose  guidance  re- 
quires more  profound  art;  no  one  who  must  be 
treated  with  more  caution  or  regard." 

Faults,  errors,  in  this  respect,  may  be  numerous, 
infinitely  varied,  unfelt,  unperceived,  and  almost 
always  past  remedy.  I  will  try  to  point  out  some  of 
them.  There  is  at  first  a  rock  to  avoid,  which  one  in 
a  measure  draws  near,  as  he  makes  greater  efforts  to 
attain  the  end  he  wishes  to  arrive  at.  Education  is, 
indisputably,  a  great  work  —  a  work  of  perfection  ; 
it  is  indisputably  a  supreme  type  that  we  must  seek 
to  realize  in  this  work ;  but  even  that  is  a  great  dan- 
ger. The  finest  theories,  the  most  perfect  plans,  the 
strictest  rules,  those  containing  the  most  absolute 
perfection,  are  not  the  most  difficult  to  be  found; 
but,  on  account  of  being  perfect,  they  become  im- 
practicable and  injurious.  What  is  essential,  and 
what  is  very  difficult  to  secure,  is  this  even  tempera- 
ment;  to  quote  St.  Paul,  this  **  sobriety  of  perfec- 
tion," without  which  all  theories,  all  rules,  are  defi- 
cient in  wisdom. 

It  is  still  more  necessary  to  spare  the  weakness  of 
the  child  than  to  draw  from  him  all  the  fruits  he  is  ca- 
pable of  producing.  It  is  always  a  great  fault  to  force 
Nature ;  she  resists  and  breaks,  or  rather  she  gives 
way,  and  becomes  weakened.  Moreover,  the  con- 
straint of  excessive  perfection  is  always  injurious  to 
the  real  strength  and  development  of  character ;  one 
becomes  disgusted  with  that  which  he  has  for  a  long 
time  been  forced  to  be  in  spite  of  himself ;  and  one 
hour  of  freedom  has  frequently  destro3^ed  the  ephem- 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    NATURE.  213 

eral  labor  of  many  years.  There  are  two  equally 
pernicious  methods  of  corrupting  nature  and  de- 
praving children.  They  become  as  grievously  per- 
verted by  oppression  as  by  spoiling.  Let  teachers 
of  youth  not  forget  that  indulgence  towards  children 
is  always  nearer  to  justice  than  severity  is;  alas! 
and  with  men  also;  for,  if  children  are  little  men,  it 
must  be  acknowledged  men  are  often  grown  children. 
When  one  devotes  himself  to  the  work  of  education, 
he  requires  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  indulgence. 
This  indulgence  is  equity  itself.  Every  one  ought 
always,  in  the  words  of  the  Church,  be  inemor  coii- 
ditionis  sues.  Let  us  never  forget  what  we  were,  not 
only  at  their  age,  but  what  we  are  in  more  advanced 
age.  No  doubt,  also,  there  are  simple  and  fixed 
principles  on  which  all  good  education  is  founded, 
and  which  may  be  always  followed,  while  keeping  to 
the  lessons  of  experience  and  the  lights  of  a  sound 
philosophy.  But  though  these  principles  may  be  un- 
changeable, and  to  swerve  from  them  in  the  bringing 
up  youth  be  necessarily  vicious,  it  is  not  the  less 
true  that  the  disposition  of  every  child  —  what  the 
hand  of  Providence  has  placed  in  him  —  his  tastes, 
and  his  different  capacities,  must  be  studied.  It  is 
not  less  true,  that  each  must  be  brought  up  for  the 
state  to  which  he  is  called,  and,  at  an  early  age, 
given  habits  that  will  one  day  render  it  easy  for  him 
to  fulfil  his  duties.  We  have  said,  and  nothing  is 
more  certain,  even  as  in  medicine  there  is  no  uni- 
versal remedy  for  all  maladies,  all  constitutions,  so 
also  the  science  of  teaching  cannot  give  uniform 
rules  for  every  character.    The  great  principle  which 


214  THE   CHILD. 

rules  and  enlightens  everything  here  is,  that  educa- 
tion ought  to  follow  and  aid  nature,  never  violently 
to  restrain  or  force  it :  and  for  this  reason,  though 
immutable  in  its  higher  principles,  education  ought 
to  infinitely  vary  its  action,  its  means,  and  its  forms. 
There  is  nothing  which  education  ought  to  have 
more  aversion  to,  more  horror  of,  than  the  common 
type,  the  mould  in  which  all  natures  are  violently 
cast.  Fenelon  says  somewhere,  "Where  will  ycu 
find  two  faces  which  wholly  resemble  each  other  ? " 
The  minds  of  men  are  not  less  different  than  their 
faces.  Education,  which  is  to  improve  nature,  and 
whose  glory  it  is  to  co-operate  in  the  work  of  Provi- 
dence, ought  not  to  have  less  variety  in  all  that  it 
performs  than  nature  and  Providence  Himself;  it 
ought  to  adapt  itself  to  all  characters,  take  the  forms 
of  all  minds,  and  find,  in  the  treasures  of  its  devo- 
tion and  its  power,  wherewith  to  bring  them  up, 
wherewith  to  mould  them  with  different  and  new 
features  every  day.  In  a  word,  education  is  a  work 
of  infinite  variety ;  nothing  is  less  suitable  to  it  than 
narrow  and  uniform  views,  harsh  measures,  inflexi- 
ble means,  forced  action.  Its  general  principles,  its 
great  laws,  are  unchangeable;  but  the  application 
perpetually  varies,  and,  on  that  account,  gives  birth 
in  a  higher  degree  to  the  absolute  perfection  to  which 
education  should  aspire.  I  sometimes  said  to  my 
worthy  fellow-laborers,  "An  educational  establish- 
ment is  a  sphere  of  intellectual  activity  and  immense 
thought.  The  centre  is  immovable ;  the  foundation 
of  its  principles  is  unchangeable ;  but  from  thence 
springs  an  action  of  never-ending  variety,  which  be- 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    NATURE.  215 

comes  extended,  restrained,  modified,  renewed,  ac- 
cording to  the  different  natures  on  which  it  is  exer- 
cised, and  of  which  it  seems  to  take  every  form,  in 
the  same  moment  that  it  takes  possession  of,  and 
moulds  them  like  to  the  supreme  type.  It  even 
takes  possession  of  them  only  on  condition  of  being 
transformed  into  them ;  like  a  virtue,  a  precious  es- 
sence, which  takes  the  different  forms  of  the  vases 
of  gold,  of  iron,  or  of  clay,  that  it  is  poured  into ; 
or  rather  like  the  grace  ^  of  God  itself,  which  sub- 
mits to  different  transformations,  suiting  itself  to  the 
heart  into  which  God  causes  it  to  flow.  Divine 
grace  penetrates,  strengthens,  vases  of  clay.  Some- 
times it  converts  them  into  vases  of  gold.  It  softens, 
it  polishes,  vases  of  iron,  and  renders  them  as  bril- 
liant as  solid.  It  labors  to  transform  all  into  vases 
of  honor."  ^  However  suitable  these  comparisons  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures  may  be,  it  remains  to  be  said, 
that  education  can  only  succeed  in  forming  souls, 
according  to  the  variety  and  nature  of  their  talents, 
by  continually  varying  in  power,  weight,  dimen- 
sion, form,  position,  method,  and  action,  all  its  re- 
sources. To  act  otherwise  is  to  submit  the  child  to 
an  intellectual,  moral,  physical  constraint ;  and  some- 
times even  a  religious  constraint,  which  throws  his 
faculties  into  a  profound  perturbation ;  changes  and 
imbitters  his  nature ;  and  frequently  goes  to  the  ex- 
tent of  causing  him  to  reject  far  from  him,  as  an 
odious  yoke  and  an  insupportable  tyranny,  all  the 
cares  of  a  forced  and  constrained  education. 

^  Multiformis  gratia  Dei. — S^.  Paul. 

2  Vasa  aurea Vas  in  honorem.  —  Ibid. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE    CHILD  ;    THE    RESPECT    DUE    TO    THE    LIBERTY    OF 
HIS  INTELLECT. 

There  are  many  important  aspects  under  which 
the  education  of  the  child,  and  the  respect  due  to 
the  dignity  of  his  nature,  may  be  particularly  con- 
sidered. I  will  try  to  point  out,  successively,  how 
fatal  are  moral,  intellectual,  and  even  physical  con- 
straint, to  education.  And  let  it  not  be  thought  that 
intellectual  constraint  can  be  less  fatal.  I  have  seen 
disastrous  consequences  from  it,  and  I  ought  to 
mention  them  here.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the 
culpable  weakness  of  some  parents,  who  do  not  re- 
gard sacrificing  the  instruction  of  the  mind,  and 
moral  education  itself,  to  the  effeminacy  and  the 
physical  cares  of  their  children.  I  ought  to  speak 
here  of  quite  another  defect :  I  mean  the  haughty 
hardness  of  other  parents,  and  the  odious  cupidity 
of  too  great  a  number  of  teachers,  who,  in  order  to 
obtain  for  their  own  name  the  glory  of  prizes  at 
competitions,  or  the  honor  of  brilliant  examinations, 
condemn  poor  children  to  labor  without  relaxation 
the  whole  day  and  part  of  the  night  during  entire 
months,  thus  causing  those  weak  bodies  and  those 
organs,  that  nature  has  not  yet  strengthened,  to  suc- 
cumb under  the  weight  of  continued  fatigue.  I  have 
216 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  21/ 

seen  young  people,  brilliantly  gifted,  who,  from  ex- 
cessive labor  at  too  early  an  age,  had  been  reduced 
to  impotence  —  to  intellectual  imbecility  —  all  their 
lives. 

In  former  times,  Plutarch  wrote  these  remarkable 
words  respecting  this  :  *'  I  know  some  fathers  who 
are  really  enemies  of  their  children.  Ambitious  of 
seeing  them  make  the  most  rapid  progress,  and  ob- 
tain an  extraordinary  superiority  in  everything,  they 
overload  them  with  a  forced  labor,  the  weight  of 
which  crushes  them.  The  result  is  a  discourage- 
ment which  renders  the  sciences  hateful  to  them. 
Plants  moderately  watered  grow  easily  ;  but  too  great 
an  abundance  of  water  stifles  the  germ  in  them. 
Thus  it  is  the  soul  becomes  nourished  and  strength- 
ened by  well-managed  labor ;  excess  overwhelms  it, 
and  extinguishes  its  faculties."  The  father  of  Blaise 
Pascal  had  entirely  opposite  ideas,  and  pursued  a 
very  different  method  in  the  education  of  his  family. 
His  daughter,  Jacqueline  Pascal,  relates  that  this 
wise  father,  in  bringing  up  Blaise,  and  applying  him 
to  study,  followed  the  principle  of  always  keeping 
the  child  below  what  he  was  capable  of.  Let  us 
study,  in  the  memoirs  of  the  time,  what  the  educa- 
tions of  Fenelon,  Bossuet,  M.  Olier,  were ;  we  shall 
see  therein  an  admirable  tempering  of  the  strength 
of  labor  and  caution  for  the  weakness  of  early  age ; 
a  clever  mixture  of  prudence  and  eagerness,  grave 
condescension  and  prudent  austerity.  It  was  thus 
that  all  those  great  men  who  regenerated  France 
during  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and 
prepared  all  the  splendor  of  the  reign  of  Louis  the 
19 


2l8  THE    CHILD. 

Fourteenth,  were  brought  up.  We  have  said  educa- 
tion is,  without  doubt,  essentially  progressive;  but 
we  have  also  said  its  method  of  proceeding  should 
never  be  violent,  nor  its  progress  hastened ;  the 
child  will  not  bear  it;  his  liberty  will  be  injured,  and 
even  the  foundation  of  nature  impaired:  his  physi- 
cal, intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  development 
is  necessarily  a  work  of  time  and  patience.  If  you 
wish  to  make  a  man  of  this  child,  it  is  necessary  to 
labor  at  it,  —  as  Providence  itself  did,  —  with  respect, 
with  time,  with  gentleness.  You  will  otherwise  dis- 
turb this  soul ;  you  will  yourself  defeat  your  whole 
work,  and  your  most  ardent  efforts  will  but  remove 
you  farther  than  ever  from  the  goal.  It  is  in  order 
to  arrive  more  surely  there,  and  by  an  idea  of  the 
highest  wisdom,  that  education  has,  as  we  have  seen, 
been  divided  into  three  different  periods ;  namely, 
maternal  education,  primary  education,  secondary 
education.  Unfortunately,  this  wise  and  progressive 
tardiness  is  not  always  observed.  One  of  the  most 
frequent  of  intellectual  constraints,  and  the  most  de- 
serving of  compassion,  is  that  of  forcibly  engaging 
poor  children  in  the  study  of  ancient  languages,  for 
which  they  have  but  little  taste,  indifferent  capacity, 
and,  besides,  in  which  they  are  not  offered  any  real 
help  to  aid  them  in  the  success  of  so  difficult  a 
labor.  I  believe,  and  I  unhesitatingly  proclaim,  that 
the  study  of  three  languages,  of  three  great  litera- 
tures —  French,  Greek,  and  Latin  —  is  the  most 
powerful  means  we  have  for  the  highest  intellectual 
education ;  but  still  the  mind  must  be  capable  of  it. 
Now,  among  those  who  make  their  classes  without 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  219 

making  their  studies,  in  our  establishments  for  pub- 
lic instruction,  how  many  of  them  are  there  abso- 
lutely incapable  of  doing  anything  else  !  How  many 
are  there,  in  consequence  of  Greek  and  Latin,  con- 
demned to  ignorance  and  stupidity,  through  the  de- 
plorable carelessness  of  which  they  are  the  victims ! 
When  sixty,  eighty,  and  sometimes  a  hundred,  are 
crowded  into  one  class,  is  there  any  possibility  what- 
soever of  these  unfortunates  studying  or  succeeding  ? 
What  do  all  others,  save  those  prepared  for  competi- 
tion, become,  and  what  can  they  become  ?  Who 
occupies  himself  with  them  ?  Who  can  occupy  him- 
self with  them  ?  The  most  zealous  professor  is 
obliged  to  leave  them  languishing  in  the  most  de- 
plorable neglect  of  all  labor.  He  asks  but  one  thing 
of  them ;  it  is,  not  to  move,  to  be  silent.  Silence 
and  immobihty  are  the  conditions  of  peace  and  exist- 
ence for  them.  It  is  necessary  that  they  be  as  if 
they  were  not  there ;  however,  they  are  condemned 
to  be  there,  and  that  for  the  space  of  ten  years,  ten 
of  the  most  ardent  years  of  their  mettlesome  youth ! 
Those  unfortunate  beings  will  thus  pass  all  the  long 
hours  of  their  sad  days,  becoming  pale  over  authors 
they  do  not  and  cannot  understand ;  reading,  or  at 
least  having  forced  under  their  eyes,  books  they  will 
never  comprehend ;  writing  themes  in  which  there 
is  neither  sense  nor  any  form  of  human  thought  or 
speech,  and  that  at  the  epoch  when  all  the  most 
active  faculties  of  the  mind  ought  to  be  developed  in 
them.  How  can  one  not  see  that  it  is  making  them 
submit  to  the  most  brutal  intellectual  tyranny  that 
ever  existed  }     Speaking  only  of  their  studies,  would 


220  THE    CHILD. 

you  wish  to  know  what  they  become  with  such  a  sys- 
tem ?  Here  is  what  the  professor  of  philosophy,  in 
one  of  the  most  important  lycees  of  France,  pub- 
lished a  short  time  ago  with  respect  to  the  average 
of  university  studies :  **  This  average  is  now  so  low, 
that  the  question  is,  Can  it  be  still  lowered  ?  Every- 
where, even  in  Paris,  whither  our  habits  of  centrali- 
zation despatch  every  year  the  most  brilliant  subjects 
from  the  provinces,  the  medium  of  the  classes  is  de- 
plorably weak.  In  Paris  there  is  an  abyss  between 
the  first  five  or  six  and  the  rest  of  the  class ;  there 
is  another  between  the  ten  following  and  what  is 
called  the  tail  of  the  class.  Now,  this  tail  is  inter- 
minable ;  so  much  so,  that  there  is  no  serious  differ- 
ence between  the  twentieth  and  the  sixtieth.  The 
sixtieth  is  at  zero,  the  twentieth  is  infinitely  low. 
It  is  the  same  thing  in  the  departments,  except  that 
the  class  is  decapitated  of  the  five  or  six  choice 
pupils  included  in  the  Parisian  lycees,  and  who  seem 
to  absorb  for  their  own  benefit  all  the  sap  of  the  uni- 
versity. This  statement  becomes  verified  in  the 
most  irrefragable  and  grievous  manner  at  the  exam- 
ination for  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts.  The 
faculties  are  not  very  exacting;  and,  nevertheless, 
the  proportion  of  candidates  refused  for  not  know- 
ing how  to  translate  passably  is  really  formidable. 
As  to  the  oral  examinations,  I  pray,  with  all  my 
heart,  that  God  may  never  lead  a  German  or  an  Eng- 
lishman there  to  witness  them ;  or,  at  least,  that  he 
will  spare  my  national  self-love  the  sorrow  and  hu- 
miliation of  finding  myself  beside  him.  I  have  not 
courage  to  say  more  regarding   them ;    they  can  be 


THE   LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  221 

witnessed."  Why  should  we  be  surprised  that  stud- 
ies thus  carried  on,  that  such  teaching,  should  have 
inspired  so  many  minds  among  us,  otherwise  distin- 
guished, with  a  supreme  contempt  and  a  sort  of  hor- 
ror for  Greek  and  Latin  .?  I  do  not  speak  strongly 
enough ;  among  many  this  sentiment  goes  to  the  ex- 
tent of  a  contempt  and  horror  of  books  and  all  liter- 
ary instruction.  I  could  quote  here  a  multiplicity  of 
my  experiences.^ 

How  many  young  people,  how  many  men,  among 
us,  whose  lamentable  story  this  is !  I  am  going  to 
speak  of  those  who  have  neither  taste  nor  marked 
capacity  for  Greek  or  Latin,  and  whom  a  system  of 
necessary  and  frightful  neglect  condemns  to  annihila- 
tion. I  ought  to  speak  of  those  whose  culture  has 
not  been  neglected,  whom  teachers  worthy  of  the 
name  exert  themselves  to  instruct,  but  who,  through 
viciousness  and  ingratitude  of  mind,  are  incapable  of 
the  instruction  they  are  compelled  to  receive.     This 


1  I  knew,  I  still  know,  one  of  the  cleverest  of  our  architects,  who 
had  the  misfortune  of  undergoing  in  his  childhood  this  odious  con- 
straint. However,  he  ended  by  shaking  off  the  yoke  ;  and  his  par- 
ents came  to  the  decision,  in  spite  of  the  advice  of  his  masters,  of 
breaking  up  the  course  of  what  they  called  his  studies,  and  setting 
him  to  the  art  of  drawing,  for  which  he  had  a  remarkable  taste  and 
talent.  "  It  is  that  which  has  saved  me,"  said  he  to  me  ;  "  but  for  it, 
I  was  morally  and  intellectually  ruined.  I  acknowledge,  even  though 
unwillinglj^  I  preserved  for  a  long  time  an  instinctive  dislike  to  books, 
for  which  I  blushed  ;  but  I  have  had  much  to  do  ;  pardon  this  remem- 
brance and  this  language."  He  then  said  to  me,  smiling,  "  Fifteen 
years  were  necessary  to  remove  the  disgust  the  college  had  inspired 
in  me  for  books  and  haricots.  I  hated  one  as  much  as  the  other ; 
and  it  was  only  last  year  that  I  could  eat  haricots  without  repug- 
nance, and  read  with  pleasure  a  translation  of  Virgil." 
19* 


222  THE    CHILD. 

is  again  a  great  misfortune.  We  have,  without  ex- 
ception, a  sad  and  notorious  instance  of  this  kind  in 
an  education  of  which  I  have  already  had  occasion 
to  speak,  that  of  the  Grand  Dauphin.  Madame  de 
Maintenon^  wrote,  "The  late  Monseigneur,  at  five 
or  six  years  old,  knew  a  thousand  Latin  words,  and 
not  one  when  he  was  his  own  master."  Madame  de 
Caylus  wrote,2  ''The  harsh  manner  with  which  he 
was  compelled  to  study  gave  him  so  great  a  disgust 
for  books,  that  he  formed  the  resolution  never  to 
open  one  when  he  should  be  his  own  master ;  he  has 
kept  his  word."  But  people  will  say  to  me.  What  is 
to  be  done  with  those  children  incapable  of,  and  who 
display  absolutely  no  taste,  no  talent,  for,  the  study 
of  languages  or  literature  ?  What  did  you  do  your- 
self with  them  ?  —  for  doubtless  you  must  have  met 
with  them.  The  answer  is  very  simple ;  it  is  neces- 
sary to  study  their  nature ;  to  seek  out,  to  discover, 
what  they  are  capable  of,  and  apply  them  to  it,  with- 
out reference  to  the  ordinary  rules  and  general 
methods  of  instruction ;  it  is  what  I  have  many 
times  had  occasion  to  do,  or  advise  enlightened  par- 
ents to  do.  Though  languages  and  letters  may  be 
the  most  powerful  means  of  intellectual  education, 
there  are  others  which  have  their  value  also.  I  shall 
explain  this  in  detail  when  I  shall  treat  of  high  liter- 
ary education.  At  present  it  is  sufficient  for  me  to 
say,  that  a  child  must  be  applied  only  to  the  studies 
for  which  he  has  capacity ;  it  is  necessary  to  give  his 
education  a  possible  foundation ;  to  labor  at  his  in- 

1  To  Madame  de  Ventadour,  June  i6,  17 15. 
I  2  Souvenir  de  Madame  de  Caylus. 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  223 

tellectual  development  in  a  medium  that  will  not 
stifle  it.  All  this  is  the  plainest  good  sense.  Every 
other  mode  of  action  is  revolting;  and,  lest  these 
words  should  appear  very  severe,  I  will  add,  that  in 
my  eyes  there  is  so  criminal  an  abuse  of  authority 
in  it,  that  I  do  not  know  anything  which  affects  me 
more  sorrowfully.  The  committing  of  such  violence 
to  a  child,  to  his  liberty,  and  the  weakness  of  his 
nature,  has  always  inspired  me  with  real  horror.  I 
ought  to  point  out  here  another  constraint  imposed 
on  the  greater  number  of  children  among  us,  and  to 
which  persons  generally  wish  to  close  their  eyes.  I 
speak  of  the  simultaneous  study  of  French^  and 
Latin,  to  which  they  are  sometimes  at  the  tenderest 
age  condemned  ;  it  is,  even  for  the  most  talented 
children,  truly  odious  intellectual  tyranny,  the  con- 
sequences of  which  are  frequently  lamentable ;  and, 
nevertheless,  what  is  more  usual  ?  How  is  it  we  do 
not  see  that  the  simultaneous  study  of  two  so  dif- 
ferent grammars,  to  which,  through  a  superabun- 
dance of  zeal,  the  Greek  grammar  is  sometimes 
added,  crushes  these  young  minds,  overturns  their 
memory,  disturbs  and  embarrasses  their  whole  intel- 
lectual development  ?  How  can  we  wish  to  see 
these  little  intellects  becoming  ruined  by  these  fan- 
tastic conflicts  of  heterogeneous  declinations,  of  con- 
jugations without  relation,  of  nouns  and  articles.^ 
How  can  you  maintain  that  syntaxes,  methods,  rules 
so  opposite  in  themselves,  will  appear  simple  and  in- 
telligible to  them,  and  that  they  will  assign  to  each 

1  In  this  country  we  should  read,  "of  English."  —  JVoU  of  Trans- 
lator. 


224  THE    CHILD. 

object  its  part  and  its  place?  But  though  they 
should  have  only  this  multitude  of  words,  signifying 
the  same  thing,  and  having  no  resemblance,  must  it 
not  be  more  than  they  could  do  to  retain  either  one 
or  the  other  ?  Do  we  not  know  that  it  is  almost  im- 
possible, at  this  age,  to  take  in  analogies,  compre- 
hend general  relations,  abstract  dissimilarities,  be- 
cause a  child  does  not  judge,  compare,  nor  deduce, 
hardly  reasons  ?  Simple  ideas  or  comparisons  are 
necessary  for  him ;  and  besides,  what  would  his 
terms  of  comparison  be  ?  Until  then  he  knows  only 
what  his  own  language  has  been  on  a  level  with, 
and  made  use  of  to  express  his  early  wants ;  he 
scarcely  sees  farther.  Does  not  the  most  ordinary 
good  sense  demand  that  his  mind  be  first  strength- 
ened ;  that  he  be  made  to  understand,  as  perfectly  as 
possible,  his  mother-tongue,  which  he  already  speaks 
and  comprehends,  in  which  at  least  he  is  not 
thrown  into  a  barbarous  and  unknown  region  ?  And 
then,  when  he  shall  suitably  possess  this  tongue, 
when  he  shall  have  well  taken  in  the  general  prin- 
ciples, the  grammar,  the  syntax,  the  method,  and  the 
orthography,  it  will  be  no  longer  a  labor  and  an  em- 
barrassment to  him,  but  an  instrument,  a  means,  a 
power,  for  studying,  for  conquering  another.  It  is 
the  want  of  observing  and  understanding  these  mat- 
ters, so  simple,  that  causes  this  tender  age,  so  deserv- 
ing of  some  mercy,  to  be  still  so  cruelly  tormented. 
And  to  what  does  it  tend.?  To  disgust  it,  sometimes 
for  ever,  with  study ;  or,  at  least,  grievously  retard 
the  first  steps  in  its  career.  I  ask  again,  of  what  use 
are   the  eighth,   ninth,   and   even   tenth    classes,  in 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  225 

which  these  poor  children  pine  for  years  ?  Whoever 
has  followed  closely  these  wretched  classes,  whoever 
has  seen  with  his  own  eyes  the  weariness,  the  dis- 
gust, of  the  masters,  the  despair  and  torture  of  the 
pupils,  will,  without  any  doubt,  share  my  opinion 
regarding  them.  As  for  me,  my  experience  once 
gained,  my  resolution  was  soon  taken,  and  immuta- 
ble ;  from  that  time,  whatever  might  be  even  the 
prayers  of  the  parents,  I  never  consented  to  admit 
into  the  Petit  Seminaire  of  Paris  any  children  not 
suitably  prepared  by  a  solid  primary  instruction  to 
receive  secondary  instruction.  To  place  by  force  in 
the  hands  of  these  unhappy  children  the  three  gram- 
mars, French,  Greek,  and  Latin,  to  compel  them  to 
apply  themselves  simultaneously  to  them,  appeared 
odious  to  me;  again,  it  was  in  my  eyes  an  intolera- 
ble abuse  of  paternal  and  magisterial  authority.  But 
you  will  ask  me,  What  did  you  do,  then  t  Something 
very  simple.  For  example,  I  sent  these  young  chil- 
dren to  the  house  of  the  good  Brothers  of  the  Chris- 
tian Doctrine,  at  Passy ;  they  remained  there  two 
or  three  years,  occupied  only  with  primary  instruc- 
tion ;  and,  when  they  were  afterwards  brought  back 
to  me,  they  then  commenced  with  greater  facility  to 
study  the  Latin  and  Greek  grammars.  They  had  no 
longer  the  disgust  of  pining  whole  years  over  the 
principles  of  grammar,  which  they  had  successfully 
studied  in  their  mother-tongue;  all  the  preliminary 
and  general  notions  were  known  beforehand.  No  con- 
fusion remained  in  their  minds ;  their  dawning  facul- 
ties had  been  suitably  cultivated  and  strengthened  by 
natural  exercise  in  an  idom  which  they  understood 


226  THE    CHILD. 

easily,  and  listened  to  with  pleasure.     Moreover,  and 
uncommon  enough,  they  knew  how  to  read  and  write 
correctly,  even  from  dictation.     In  fine,  their  minds 
were  already  adorned  with  much    accessory  knowl- 
edge  of    history,    geography,    arithmetic,    and   even 
drawing.     In  a  word,   they  were  children  really  in- 
structed in   everything  they  ought    to   know;  they 
replied  to  all  my  questions  with  confidence.     I  read 
in  the  vivacity  of  their  looks   the  happy   certainty 
that  they  had  acquired   their  little  knowledge,   and 
their  eagerness    to    conquer   more.      And   when    at 
length   I   admitted    them   to    study  the    humanities, 
when  I  declared  them  deserving  and  capable  of  it, 
when   the   Latin  and   Greek  languages  were  placed 
before  them,  it  was  a  pleasure,  honor,  and  not  a  tor- 
ture, to  them  ;  it  was,  as  it  were,  opening  a  new  field 
to  their  young  minds;  it  was   a  brilliant  conquest 
proposed  to  their  ardor.     From  eight  to  ten,  eleven, 
or   thereabout,  they  had  received  good  primary  in- 
struction.    From   ten  or  eleven  to  sixteen  or  seven- 
teen, they  passed   easily  and  gloriously  through  the 
whole    course    of     the    humanities ;     from    sixteen, 
eighteen,    or   nineteen,    their    intellectual    education 
was    completed    by   the   study   of    the  sciences  and 
philosophy.       In     fine,    at    eighteen,    nineteen,    or 
twenty,   these  young  people  were  ready  for  every- 
thing ;  and,  save  one  or  two  exceptions,  I  have  never 
known  them  to  be  refused  at  their  examinations.     It 
was   thus   I   acted  whenever  the  wisdom   of  parents 
permitted  me,  and  it  is  thus  we  should  always  act. 
Such  a  course    renders  a    considerable    service   to 
youth,  to  families,  to  the  country,  and  will  cause  this 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  22/ 

tyrannical  and  besotting  system,  which  I  have 
pointed  out,  to  disappear,  and  with  it  those  sad 
classes,  called  the  tenth,  ninth,  and  eighth,  which  are 
but  a  lost  and  hateful  time  for  children,  after  which 
they  know  neither  Latin,  Greek,  nor  French,  and, 
besides,  become  especially  incapable  of  learning,  of 
knowing,  anything  else.  But  I  may  be  asked.  Do 
you  wish  to  modify  profoundly  the  general  system 
and  universal  order  of  studies  ?  No  ;  I  wish  but  for 
two  matters :  Firstly,  that  a  professor  be  a  sincere, 
honest,  compassionate  man,  and  not  retain  in  his 
class  fifty  or  sixty  pupils  with  whom  he  does  not 
and  cannot  occupy  himself,  and  who  are  becoming 
stupefied  ;  that  poor  children,  without  taste,  inclina- 
tion, preparation,  or  before  the  time  they  shall  be 
capable  of  it,  be  not  condemned  to  study  the  learned 
languages.  Moreover,  I  consider  that  writing,  read- 
ing, the  grammar  of  their  own  language,  elementary 
and  universal  history,  geography,  fables,  drawing, 
music,  the  elements  of  arithmetic,  the  simplest  and 
most  interesting  ideas  of  the  natural  sciences,  can 
and  ought  to  occupy  more  agreeably  and  more  use- 
fully the  first  years  of  youth,  than  the  study  of  Greek 
and  Latin.  I  do  not  wish  to  modify  anything  in  the 
system  of  the  humanities ;  it  is  here  simply  a  ques- 
tion of  order  and  time.  I  would  confine  myself  to 
delaying  the  study  of  Latin  for  a  year,  or  even  two. 
I  would  commence  later,  but  in  order  to  finish 
sooner.  This  study,  coming  in  due  time,  would  be 
more  easy,  more  prompt,  and  more  certain ;  the 
delay  would  be  found  more  speedily  repaired.  Not 
only  can  they  acquire  it  better^  and  more  of  it,  but 


228  THE    CHILD. 

they  can  acquire  it  more  quickly.  And  in  that 
way,  without  interfering  with  the  general  system  of 
the  humanities,  I  would  but  happily  uproot  and 
overturn  a  bad  routine,  a  barbarous  habit,  which 
favors,  at  the  expense  of  this  age,  so  deserving  of 
compassion,  the  negligence  of  some,  and  cupidity  of 
others.  The  study  of  mathematics  has  also  become 
among  us  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  of  intellectual 
constraints;  I  ought  to  point  out  the  dangers  of  it. 
People  are  sometimes  surprised  at  seeing  certain 
pupils  of  our  trained  schools,  of  the  PolytecJinique 
itself,  tending  to  a  deplorable  mediocrity  in  every 
respect.  I  am  never  surprised  at  it.  The  laws  of 
weak  nature,  in  these  young  people,  undergo  the  in- 
evitable consequences  of  the  premature  instruction 
forced  upon  them.  They  have  been  applied  to  the 
study  of  the  exact  sciences  before  their  mind,  being 
sufficiently  developed  and  strengthened,  was  capable 
of  it ;  they  have  not  been  able  to  sustain  the  weight ; 
mathematics  have  crushed  them  ;  so  far  from  being 
brought  up  by  their  education,  they  have  not  even 
been  instructed  ;  they  have  been  dried  up,  exhausted, 
and  ruined  forever.  In  order  to  understand  this 
well,  it  is  necessary  to  recollect  that  the  faculties  of 
man  cannot  ripen  nor  become  wholly  developed  but 
according  to  the  laws  of  a  successive  and  measured 
progression.  It  does  not  enter  into  the  order  of 
Providence  that  they  should  all  attain  at  the  same 
time  their  strength,  their  maturity,  their  natural 
power.  We  therefore  see  memory  first  appearing, 
imagination  then  revealing  itself,  moral  feeling  after- 
wards.     Nothing   is    more    tardy   in   children    than 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  229 

thought.  They  have  certain  natural  ideas  ;  but  these 
are  almost  always  ideas  which  spring  from  their  im- 
agination; nothing  is  more  rare  among  them  than 
connected  thought  and  purely  intellectual  operations. 
Connected  thought,  whether  it  be  abstract  or  com- 
plex, almost  always  confounds  them ;  in  a  word,  re- 
flection is  singularly  weak  in  them,  judgment  very 
indifferent,  and  consecutive  reasoning  nearly  impos- 
sible. In  that  state  of  things,  what  comes  to  pass  ? 
Mathematics  are  frequently  too  great,  too  difficult,  a 
study  for  these  young  pupils.  Without  any  doubt, 
mathematics,  by  a  useful  and  vigorous  exercise,  by 
laborious  intellectual  gymnastics,  strengthen  and  per- 
fect reflection,  judgment,  reasoning ;  but  they  abso- 
lutely exact  that  these  faculties  shall  already  have 
acquired  a  certain  vigor,  a  certain  development ; 
otherwise  they  crush  them.  Experience,  in  this  re- 
spect, has  always  led  me  to  the  same  conclusion.  I 
have  always  observed,  every  time  a  premature  or  ab- 
sorbing predominance  in  education  has  been  granted 
to  mathematics,  that  great  misfortunes  resulted  from 
it :  sensibility,  imagination,  these  two  noble  and  bril- 
liant faculties,  companions  of  reason,  become  griev- 
ously extinguished ;  you  mutilate,  sometimes  in  a 
frightful  manner,  that  amiable  nature ;  you  impair 
its  moral  dignity  as  well  as  its  intellectual  power. 
Mathematics,  when  studied  before  their  time,  actually 
injure  even  those  faculties  which  they  exercise  at  the 
expense  of  the  two  others;  for,  in  extinguishing 
these  latter,  they  deprive  the  former  of  all  the  assist- 
ance they  might  expect  from  their  companions  ;  and 
reason  itself  becomes  dried  up  without  being  more 


230  THE    CHILD. 

strengthened.  Moreover,  as  mathematics  most  fre- 
quently exercise  the  accuracy  of  the  mind  only  on 
geometrical  and  material  abstractions,  they  disturb, 
and  sometimes  even  impair,  moral  feeling,  if  it  be 
not  very  strong  in  the  soul.  Not  only  do  they  rob 
the  intellect  of  the  grace,  the  brilliancy,  the  generos- 
ity, the  warmth,  which  imagination  would  have  com- 
municated to  it,  but  they  deprive  it  also  of  moral 
exactness,  that  is  to  say,  real  greatness  of  soul,  and 
all  that  is  noble  in  the  human  intellect.  I  have 
said,  and  maintain,  these  are  great  misfortunes ;  yes, 
it  is  a  great  misfortune  for  a  young  man  and  his  fam- 
ily. What  do  they  gain  by  it  in  the  end  .-*  They 
sometimes  make  one  mathematician  more,  but  fre- 
quently, also,  a  man  less.  And,  as  I  indicated  farther 
back,  we  are  frequently  condemned  to  regret  the 
absence  of  both.  Certainly  I  am  not  one  of  those 
who  despise  human  science  and  learned  schools. 
The  Polytechnic  has  rendered  great  services  to  our 
country,  and  we  may  be  proud  of  its  professors. 
Yes,  learned  men  are  worthy  of  every  encouragement, 
and  of  being  nobly  rewarded  for  intelligence  and  labor. 
I  have  always  respectfully  admired  these  great  and 
generous  minds,  whose  most  profound  investigations, 
whose  powerful  calculations,  have  mounted  to  the 
heavens,  and  descended  to  the  bottom  of  the  abysses  ; 
whose  wonderful  discoveries  extend  to  the  most  distant 
ages,  penetrate  all  nature,  and  unveil  her  most  hidden 
secrets.  I  willingly  cry  out,  Felix  qtci  potiiit  rertim 
cognoscere  caiisas  !  I  willingly  render  solemn  hom- 
age to  Laplace,  Bertholet,  Lavoisier,  Cuvier,  and  so 
many  others.     I  pause ;  for,  in  speaking  of  the  dead. 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  23 1 

I  draw  too  near  to  the  living,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
wound  their  modesty  by  my  praises.  But  it  is  pre- 
cisely my  admiration  for  those  names,  great  in 
science,  and  my  respect  for  science  itself,  which 
causes  me  to  require  that  it  be  not  debased  by  deliv- 
ering it  to  young  minds  still  unworthy  of  it,  and  in- 
capable of  raising  an  intelligent  and  sensible  glance 
to  its  beautiful  light.  Science,  which  ought  to  en- 
lighten them,  stupefies  and  blinds  them  then;  after 
these  deplorable  and  impotent  attempts,  those  poor 
young  people  are  often  condemned  to  fix  but  weak- 
ened and  stupid  eyes,  and  the  uncertain  glance  of  an 
extinguished  or  wandering  intellect,  on  literature  and 
human  science.  Besides,  I  cannot  forget  that  the 
princes  of  science,  and  the  greatest  philosophical 
geniuses,  have  thought  and  spoken  on  this  grave 
subject  as  I  do.  These  astounding  words  of  Des- 
cartes were  recently  quoted  to  me :  *'  The  study  of 
mathematics  renders  one  unfit  for  that  of  philoso- 
phy." I  myself  read  in  the  works  of  that  great 
man,  "There  is  nothing  more  empty  than  occupy- 
ing one's  self  with  numbers  and  imaginary  figures, 
as  if  one  wished  to  arrest  his  knowledge  with  such 
trifles,  and,  by  applying  himself  with  so  much  care 
to  these  superficial  demonstrations,  to  give  up,  in  a 
manner,  the  use  of  his  reason."  ^ 

1  Here  is  what  the  learned  author  of  the  Life  of  Descartes  re- 
counts :  "  His  own  experience  had  a  long  time  before  convinced  him 
of  how  little  utility  mathematics  were,  especially  when  they  were  cul- 
tivated only  for  themselves,  without  application  to  other  matters. 
From  the  year  1620,  he  had  entirely  neglected  the  rules  of  arithmetic. 
His  attachment  to  geometry  subsisted  a  little  longer  in  his  heart ;  but 
we  may  say  it  had  already  fallen  away  in  1623,  if  it  be  true,  that,  in 


232  THE    CHILD, 

Who  does  not  know  the  distinction  made  by  Pas- 
cal between  the  spirit  of  exactness  and  the  spirit  of 
geometry  ?  Every  one  has  read  in  his  "  Thoughts  " 
the  well-known  passage,  where,  in  exalting  the  merits 
of  geometry,  he  mocks  geometry  which  is  only 
geometry,  and  finds  it  ridiculous,  false,  and  insup- 
portable, because  it  wishes  to  treat  delicate  matters 
geometrically.  Leibnitz,  also,  has  expressed  his  sen- 
timents on  this  subject  with  all  the  gravity  and 
usual  elevation  of  his  views.  After  having  spoken 
of  the  epoch  in  which  some  celebrated  authors 
turned  their  attention  towards  the  study  of  nature 
and  mathematics,  he  adds,  ''  This  is  not  the  place  to 
explain  in  what  this  kind  of  study  now  appears  to 
me  defective,  and  how  it  happens  that  the  disciples 
of  some  of  those  great  men,  though  surrounded  by 
so  much  assistance,   nevertheless   did    not   perform 

1638,  he  professed  that  he  had  neglected  geometry  for  more  than  fif- 
teen years  "  (p.  402,  vol.  iii.,  of  his  Letters).  "  He  was  not  surprised 
at  seeing  the  greater  number  of  clever  men,  even  those  of  the  most 
solid  genius,  nut  delay  in  neglecting  or  rejecting,  as  foolish  and  puerile 
amusements,  sciences  of  this  kind,  as  soon  as  they  had  made  their  first 
essays  in  them.  He  found  nothing  which  appealed  to  him  really  less 
substantial  than  occupying  one's  self  with  purely  simple  numbers  and 
imaginary  figures,  as  if  one  ought  to  keep  to  these  trifles  without  car- 
rying his  views  farther.  He  saw  they  were  even  something  more  than 
useless,  and  he  believed  it  was  dangerous  to  apply  one's  self  too  seri- 
ously to  these  superficial  demonstrations,  arrived  at  more  frequently 
by  chance  than  by  industry  or  experience,  and  which  a])peal  to  the 
eyes  and  the  imagination  rather  than  the  understanding.  His  maxim 
was,  that  this  application  caused  us  insensibly  to  give  u])  using  our 
reason,  and  exposed  us  to  lose  the  path  its  light  had  traced  out  for  us 
(De  Directione  ingenii,  reg.  4).  These  are  partly  the  motives  which 
induced  him  to  give  up  pure  mathematics." — (Baillet,  Hist,  of  Des- 
cartes, p.  Ill,  art.  12,  edit,  of  1691,  book  ii.  chap,  vi.) 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  233 

anything  worth  commemorating.  I  shall  merely  re- 
mark, that,  since  this  period,  the  study  of  antiquity 
and  solid  erudition  has,  in  some  manner,  fallen  into 
contempt."  —  (Letters  of  Leibnitz  to  M.  Huet,  Bishop 
of  Avranches.)  Bossuet  held  the  same  opinion,  and 
expressed  it  in  his  own  way,  in  a  letter  dated  May 
2 1st,  1687,  addressed  to  a  young  mathematician: 
"  Do  you  believe,  sir,  it  follows-  that  one  can  be  very 
capable  of  taking  part  in  matters  relating  to  the- 
ology because  he  has  a  knowledge  of  physics  and 
algebra,  or  even  understands  some  of  the  general 
truths  of  metaphysics.'*"  Fenelon  spoke  still  more 
energetically:  ''Mistrust,"  said  he,  ''the  bewitchery 
and  diabolical  attractions  of  geometry." — (Vol.  v., 
p.  514,  Correspondence.)  He  did  not  wish  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  to  study  too  much  mathematics,  lest 
they  should  cause  him  to  lose  infinite  time  in  foolish 
researches,  and  render  him  too  angular.  —  (Corre- 
spondence and  Memoirs  of  the  Education  of  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy.)  Certainly,  after  such  authori- 
ties and  such  reasons,  I  may  be  permitted  to  add  in 
conclusion.  It  is  a  great  misfortune  for  a  nation 
when  a  thoughtless  impulse  gives  to  mathematics, 
before  their  time,  a  predominance  in  the  studies  of 
youth ;  if  these  studies  be  successful,  we  may  per- 
haps have  a  great  number  of  accurate  geometricians 
and  useful  engineers ;  but  we  may  also  have  a  great 
number  of  men  with  indifferent  talents.^    One  class  of 

1  France   had   already,    earl}'   in   the   beginning   of    this   century, 
gained  a  first  and  deplorable  experience  of  it.     Here  is  what  M.  de 
Poirson,  one  of  the  most  eminent  members  of  the  corps  of   instruc- 
tion, publishes :    "  From  this  new  plan  of  public  teaching,  in  which 
20* 


234  THE    CHILD, 

training  will  pass  for  the  highest  intellectual  culture 
of  the  country  ;  it  will  be  forgotten  that  there  is  an  ex- 
actness and  elevation  of  view,  which  are  not  alone 
the  elevation  of  mathematics  and  the  exactness  of 
trigonometry,  profoundly  desirable  in  human  society. 
All  ambition,  every  effort,  is  being  turned  to  this  side  ; 
each  year  many  thousands  of  young  minds,  from 
thirteen  to  eighteen,  shall  be  condemned  to  interrupt 
all  intellectual  and  moral  education,  all  development 
of  thought  and  language,  in  order  to  devote  them- 
selves only  to  algebra  and  geometry.  We  shall  see 
them,  each  year,  present  themselves  for  examinations 
almost  impossible  for  every  one ;  some  hundreds  of 
candidates  will  with  great  trouble  be  received,  and 
all  the  others  will  fall  back  on  themselves  disheart- 
ened, on  their  mutilated  studies,  their  weakened 
faculties,  their  exhausted  youth,  their  ruined  future. 
But  what  is  to  be  done  ?  Will  it  be  necessary  to 
close  all  those  schools  which  prepare  for  so  many 

mathematical  sciences  predominate,  results  the  most  instantaneous, 
the  most  deplorable,  and  most  easily  perceived,  are  produced.  With- 
in six  years,  almost  all  youth  have  become  shamefully  ignorant.  Some 
private  schools,  though  exceptions,  still  nourish  feeble  remains  of  en- 
lightenment ;  in  all  other  parts  of  France  they  have  become  extinct. 
In  the  year  1800,  the  pupils  of  the  special  government  schools  who 
had  passed  their  twentieth  year  apprised  an  astounded  country  that 
some  of  its  subjects  prepared  to  enter  the  public  offices  would  be 
found  unfit  for  the  position  in  consequence  of  deficiency  in  literary 
knowledge,  being  unable  to  render  their  ideas  into  language,  to  ex- 
press themselves  in  a  clear  and  correct  manner,  or  produce  an  intelli- 
gible report  without  faults  of  orthography.  It  was  not  the  empire  of 
intelligence  alone  which  was  menaced  in  our  country."  (Collection  of 
Laws  and  Rules  regarding  Public  Instruction,  vol.  i.  pp.  37,  38,  46, 
47.  —  Explanation  of  the  Reasons  for  the  Law  of  1802,  by  Fourcray, 
vol.  ii.  p.  62.  —  Fourcy's  History  of  the  Polytechnic  School,  p.  214.) 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    INTELLECT.  235 

important  public  services,  in  which,  each  year,  are 
recruited  for  the  artillery,  the  naval  service,  the 
mines,  the  public  works,  naval  construction,  etc., 
men  designed  to  put  in  motion,  to  give  direction  to 
those  great  works  ?  Without  doubt,  no ;  but  what 
should  be  done  is,  to  retard  sufficiently  the  period  of 
admission  to  these  schools,  in  order  that  the  young 
people  who  aspire  to  it  can  be  brought  up  to  the  alti- 
tude of  science  without  being  crushed  before  their 
time  by  labors  beyond  their  strength.  Here  is  what 
should  be  done,  and  I  affirm  what  no  one  can  dis- 
pute. All  will  then  go  on  better :  we  shall  not  have 
less  learning;  on  the  contrary,  we  shall  have  more 
real  learning,  and  an  ardent  and  generous  youth  will 
no  longer  be  compelled  to  submit  the  liberty  of  its 
tastes,  and  the  most  legitimate  of  its  dislikes,  to  the 
most  hateful  intellectual  constraint  that  has  ever 
been  imagined. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

OF   THE    CHILD,    AND    THE    RESPECT    DUE   TO     THE 
LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL. 

I  HAVE  pointed  out  the  dangers  of  intellectual  con- 
straint —  those  of  moral  constraint  are  still  more  to 
be  dreaded.  Certainly  it  seems  hardly  possible, 
that  in  a  country,  in  an  age,  like  ours,  the  moral  lib- 
erty of  youth  can  be  seriously  menaced.  At  the 
same  time,  let  us  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  trust  to  appear- 
ances ;  we  shall,  perhaps,  be  cruelly  deceived  by  them. 
There  may  possibly  be  many  errors  in  this  respect ; 
and  I  have  seen  some  results  so  disastrous,  that  I 
may  be  permitted  at  least  to  point  them  out  rapidly. 
I  will  first  say,  that  good  educations,  the  most  care- 
ful, the  best  carried  on,  have  always  had  to  guard 
against  themselves.  Fenelon  asks,  ''What  do  we 
see  in  the  greater  number  of  educations }  No  lib- 
erty, no  enjoyment,  always  lessons,  silence,  a  cramp- 
ing posture,  correction,  and  threats."  He  adds,  "  An 
exactitude  and  a  seriousness,  of  which  those  who 
require  them  would  not  themselves  be  capable,  are 
often  demanded  from  children."  Again  he  says, 
"  Those  who  govern  children  will  excuse  nothing  in 
them,  and  everything  in  themselves."  Let  it  be  un- 
derstood, then,  this  is  not  an  idle  dissertation  ;  noth- 
ing is  more  practical,  more  important,  and  I  believe 
236 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  23/ 

more  useful,  at  the  present,  than  to  recall  the  princi- 
ples which  govern  the  question.  If  education  be,  as 
we  have  seen,  a  work  essentially  founded  on  author- 
ity and  respect,  it  is  also  essentially  a  work  of  human 
liberty ;  for  religious  and  moral  education  is  not,  and 
never  can  be,  a  work  of  constraint  and  violence. 
Without  doubt,  it  is  necessary  that  authority  should 
be  grave  and  firm  at  bottom  ;  but  it  is  also  necessary 
that  its  action  should  be  mild  and  pliant,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  admirable  expression  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures:  Attingcns  ad finem  fortiter^  stiaviterqiie 
disponens  omnia. 

Plato  speaks  of  the  different  threads  which  ought 
to  enchain  us  in  life.  He  says,  *'  There  are  some 
of  iron,  which  are  tight  and  hard ;  but  there  is  one 
which  is  of  gold,  and  full  of  gentleness  ;  it  is  the 
thread  of  reason.  I  willingly  admit  that  education 
ought  to  have  the  pliancy  and  strength  of  a  chain 
of  gold,  which  leaves  to  him  whom  it  retains  the 
freedom  of  his  movements,  and  makes  itself  felt  by 
him  only  at  a  moment  when  he  may  be  in  danger 
of  swerving  from  good  or  precipitating  himself  into 
evil."  No  doubt  it  is  necessary  that  children  be 
stimulated,  but  without  violence,  by  their  moral  edu- 
cation. It  must  check  them  without  constraining 
them ;  in  a  word,  it  is  necessary  that  children  be  free, 
under  the  powerful,  active,  and  vigilant  action  of 
education.  It  is  necessary  to  know  how  to  induce, 
restrain,  arrest,  or  direct  their  will,  form  their  con- 
science and  their  heart,  without  forcing  them  or  im- 
pairing their  nature.  This  is  what  Quintilian  for- 
merly expressed  by  this   speech  :    Stndium  discendi, 


238  THE    CHILD. 

vohmtate,qu(Ecogi  no7t  potest,  constat —  "  Study,  virtue, 
education,  depend  on  the  will  not  being  constrained." 
It  is  necessary  to  make  them  desire,  choose  freely, 
and  love  goodness,  truth,  justice,  honesty,  greatness. 
I  say  freely,  for  Fenelon  says,  "  One  does  not  love 
only  in  as  much  as  it  pleases  him  to  love."  In  order 
to  succeed  in  this,  it  is  necessary  to  enter  into  the 
depths  of  the  hearts  of  those  children ;  it  is  neces- 
sary to  have  the  key  to  them ;  every  spring  must  be 
set  in  motion ;  they  must  be  persuaded ;  mild  insin- 
uation and  paternal  cares  are  necessary ;  it  must  be 
by  a  father  or  mother ;  in  a  word,  the  great  art  of 
educating  souls,  that  of  making  one's  self  loved,  and 
winning  confidence,  is  required  in  order  to  succeed 
in  persuading.  It  is  necessary  to  understand  that 
this  task  has  an  antipathy  to  all  anger,  impatience, 
harshness,  and  severity ;  dry  and  absolute  authority, 
military  discipline,  the  material  force  of  which  I 
speak  just  now,  will  never  accomplish  it.  Ah  !  with- 
out doubt,  as  Fenelon  said  again,  it  is  more  easy  to 
reprehend  than  to  persuade ;  it  is  shorter  to  threaten 
than  to  instruct ;  it  is  easier  for  haughtiness  and  hu- 
man impatience  to  strike  those  who  resist  them,  than 
to  bend  mildly  to  the  voice  of  reason.  But  what 
comes  to  pass  by  that  t  Every  one  becomes  silent, 
every  one  endures  it,  every  one  becomes  disguised, 
every  one  acts  and  appears  willing ;  but  nothing  is 
true,  nothing  is  real,  nothing  is  sincere.  Moral  edu- 
cation is  absent;  violence  is  endured  with  impa- 
tience, and  in  the  endurance  it  becomes  hated,  and  it 
is  actually  hateful;  and  then  what  becomes  of  au- 
thority  and   respect.^     Fenelon   had  so   much   pro- 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  239 

found,  SO  much  delicate  caution  for  the  liberty  as 
well  as  the  dignity  of  nature  in  children,  he  wished 
not  only  that  force  should  not  be  used  with  them, 
but  even  that  their  reasons  should  be  discussed,  that 
they  should  be  induced  to  speak  of  the  requirements 
of  their  education,  in  order  to  test  their  discernment, 
and  give  them  a  taste  for  what  they  should  perform. 
And  is  it  not,  indeed,  manifest  that  what  they  do 
without  taste  and  against  their  will,  that  which  they 
do  by  compulsion,  benefits  them  not,  and  most  fre- 
quently, like  what  they  are  forced  to  eat  without 
hunger,  injures  and  disgusts  them.  It  is  only  what 
they  accept  lovingly,  what  enters  naturally  into  their 
minds  and  hearts,  that  really  nourishes  their  souls, 
that  is  converted  into  their  own  substance,  and,  if  I 
may  venture  to  say  it,  which  becomes  their  mind 
and  heart.  The  real  aim  of  moral  education  is  only 
that  of  persuading  minds  and  hearts,  and  of  bringing 
them  up  with  a  sincere  love  of  virtue.  How  can  we 
hope  to  accomplish  this  by  material  force,  by  servile 
fear,  by  imperious  authority.?  No;  if  we  wish  to 
render  children  reasonable,  it  is  necessary  to  speak 
reasonably  to  them,  and  they  will  listen ;  if  we  wish 
to  render  them  virtuous,  it  is  necessary  to  treat  them 
with  confidence ;  they  are  moved  by  it,  and  become 
grateful  and  cheerful.  Fenelon  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  cheerfulness  and  confidence  should  be  their 
ordinary  disposition.  A  mind  controlled  by  fear  is 
always  a  weak  mind;  fear  only  cramps  education, 
and  consequently  renders  it  superficial.  The  greater 
number  of  children  who  are  brought  up  in  this  man- 
ner, have,  when  their  education  seems  completed,  to 


240  THE   CHILD. 

begin  it  again.  After  ten  years,  nothing  has  been 
done  for  them.  People  are  sometimes  terrified  by 
lively  and  turbulent  children ;  as  for  me,  they  never 
inspired  me  with  fear :  I  was  much  more  afraid  of 
those  whom  I  called  sleeping  waters.  After  the  ex- 
periences of  which  I  have  spoken  in  the  chapter  on 
spoiled  children,  what  I  am  about  to  say  may  appear 
less  surprising.  The  truth  is,  I  did  not  like  children 
who  had  never  rebelled  against  me ;  it  was  the 
former  who  gave  me  uneasiness ;  it  was  for  them  I 
dreaded  the  uncertainties  of  the  future,  and  the 
awakening  of  the  still  slumbering  passions.  What 
a  fault  it  is  not  to  be  able  to  endure  anything  from 
children !  Fenelon  formerly  said,  with  real  warmth 
of  temper,  to  those  parents  and  impatient  teachers 
who  were  always  reprimanding  their  pupils  for  mak- 
ing too  much  noise,  "  Permit  a  child  to  play."  Do 
you  not  understand  that  his  age  requires,  above  all, 
noise,  space,  sun,  movement  ?  It  is  sufficient  to 
see  them,  in  order  to  comprehend  it;  it  is  their  na- 
ture, it  is  their  life.  Give  them,  then,  a  large  play- 
ground, gardens,  walks ;  otherwise  you  put  them  to 
the  torture.  Remove  walls  and  barriers  ;  it  is  in  the 
country,  in  the  midst  of  fields  and  verdure,  that  chil- 
dren ought  to  be  brought  up.  Is  it  not  surprising 
that  they  can  be  induced  to  labor  and  remain  im- 
movable for  ten  Oi  twelve  hours  each  day  }  Do  not 
refuse  them  liberty,  at  least  during  their  recreation. 
Look  at  them  then ;  it  gives  one  pleasure  to  see 
them  ;  for  it  is  liberty  itself,  the  most  amiable,  and 
also  the  most  innocent  form  of  it.  They  are  con- 
tent, provided  they  have  change  of  place ;  let  them 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  24I 

have  it.  Fenelon  pleasantly  said,  *'A  shuttlecock 
or  a  ball  is  sufficient;"  at  present  it  is  a  ball  or  a 
hoop.  Guard  well,  then,  against  restraining  them  in 
their  plays ;  guard  against  interdicting  noisy  recrea- 
tions. These  are  what  they  love  best,  the  diversions 
by  which  the  body  is  called  into  full  activity.  Love 
them  as  they  do.  Their  bodies  will  one  day  be  less 
disposed  to  move;  in  the  meanwhile  take  them  as 
they  are,  or  do  not  charge  yourself  with  their  educa- 
tion ;  for  what  can  they  do  except  impatiently  endure 
your  restraint,  and  rush  eagerly  to  their  plays  while 
they  can  ?  ^  As  for  me,  I  asked  one  favor  only  from 
our  children  ;  that  was,  not  to  utter  wild  yells  ;  again, 
when  the  weather  and  their  temper  seemed  gloomy,  I 
had  toleration  for  them,  and  reserved  my  admonitions 
until  some  days  after,  when  they  had  forgotten  it. 

Without  doubt  we  may,  and  sometimes  ought  to, 
restrain  children  in  their  plays.  Again,  we  may 
sometimes  direct  them,  prompt  them ;  but  that  is 
always  a  very  delicate  matter.  To  give  one's  self 
trouble  about  their  plays  is  almost  always  lost 
trouble ;  they  themselves  invent  enough  of  them ;  it 
is  sufficient  to  permit  them  to  do  so ;  we  should  at 
most  only  make  overtures  to  them:  but  let  them 
always  feel  that  they  are  free;  it  is  what  they  re- 
quire, it  is  their  right.  To  wish  to  force  them,  to 
determine  their  taste  on  this  head,  in  fine,  to  de- 
sire, even  through  kindness,  that  they  should  play 
more,  to  make  them  play  in  this  way,  is  to  continue 
the  class  during  recreation  ;  it  is  not  understanding 
that  recreation  is  the  legitimate  relaxation  from  the 

1  Fenelon. 


242  THE    CHILD. 

class;  that  this  hberty  of  a  moment  is  the  just,  the 
necessary,  indemnification  for  so  long  a  constraint ; 
it  is  exposing  one's  self  to  hear  the  most  turbulent 
among  them  come  up  with  a  respectful  simplicity, 
and  say,  what  I  heard  once,  and  have  never  forgot- 
ten, ''  M.  le  Superieur,  if  you  knew  how  amusing 
ourselves  like  that  wearies  us  !  "  This  pert  little  fel- 
low was  quite  right.  Ah !  how  differently  the  im- 
mortal friend  of  youth,  whose  authority  and  words  I 
love  so  much  to  quote,  thought !  He  not  only  wished 
that  children  should  be  permitted  to  play  freely  dur- 
ing their  hours  of  recreation,  but  he  went  so  far  as 
to  desire  for  young  children  "  that  study  be  hidden 
under  the  appearance  of  liberty  and  pleasure.  Mix 
instruction  with  amusement ;  let  wisdom  show  her- 
self to  them  but  at  intervals,  and  with  a  smiling 
face ;  guard  against  fatiguing  them  by  indiscreet 
exactitude."  Again  he  said,  *'  Let'  us  suffer  chil- 
dren sometimes  to  interrupt  study  by  little  diverting 
sallies.  They  require  these  distractions  in  order  to 
relax  their  minds.  Free  curiosity  stimulates  their 
minds  more  than  constraint.  Permit  their  eyes  to 
wander  a  little ;  for  a  child  to  see  is  to  live.  We 
should  even  permit  them  from  time  to  time  some 
digression  or  some  play,  so  that  their  minds  may  be 
set  at  large ;  then  let  us  gently  lead  them  back  to 
the  task ;  too  exact  a  regularity,  in  order  to  require 
from  them  uninterrupted  studies,  injures  them  much. 
Those  who  govern  them  often  affect  this  regularity 
because,  in  order  to  profit  by  every  moment,  it  suits 
them  better  than  continual  subjection." 

One  of  the  most  serious,  the  most  frequent,  incon- 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  243 

veniences  of  contrained  education,  is  that  of  casting 
children  into  dejection,  sometimes  into  despair,  of 
breaking  in  them  the  most  powerful  springs  of  wis- 
dom and  virtue.  Their  minds  become  obscured, 
their  courage  disheartened ;  if  they  be  lively,  they 
become  irritable ;  if  they  be  dull,  it  renders  them 
stupid.  1  Without  doubt,  there  are  natures  that  must 
be  controlled  by  fear ;  but  it  must  then  be  used  as 
violent  remedies  are  in  the  extremity  of  illness ;  for 
we  always  run  the  risk  of  impairing  the  constitution 
and  wearing  out  the  organs.  I  dwell  on  this  point, 
because  nothing  is  more  difficult  than  to  convince 
young  teachers,  especially  young  professors,  of  it. 
However,  all  the  most  eminent  men  are  unanimous 
respecting  this.  A  philosopher  said,  *'  Children 
should  be  induced  to  love  goodness  by  gentleness 
and  persuasion,  never  by  harsh  and  humiliating  pun- 
ishments ;  such  ill-treatment  disheartens  and  repels 
them."  Quintilian,  also,  has  admirably  expressed 
himself  on  the  danger  of  intellectual  or  moral  con- 
straint in  education  :  "  Nothing  dejects  the  minds  of 
children  so  much  as  having  a  master  who  is  too 
severe  and  too  difficult  to  please ;  they  become  fretted 
and  despairing  ;  they  look  on  everything  with  hatred  ; 
fear,  which  never  leaves  them,  prevents  them  from 
making  any  effort.  We  should  imitate  the  vine- 
dressers, who  spare  the  vine  while  it  is  young;  they 
are  careful  in  pruning  it  then,  for  they  know  it  fears 
the  steel,  and  that  it  may  suffer  from  the  least  wound. 
I  am  not  so  ill-instructed  on  the  ability  and  in- 
clinations of   every  age  as   to  wish   that  a  child  be 

1  Fenelon.  "^-^^^^^^^ 

(iUalVEESITTj 


244  "THE    CHILD. 

severely  pressed,  and  perfection  in  his  work  be  re- 
quired of  him  all  at  once ;  it  is  necessary  to  be  care- 
ful especially  of  making  him  hate  the  sciences  dur- 
ing the  period  when  he  should  still  love  them,  lest  he 
be  disgusted  forever  by  the  bitterness  which  at  one 
time  they  caused  him  to  feel."  ^  This  was  Seneca's 
idea  also.  Is  it  just  to  rule  children  with  as  m.uch 
strength  and  harshness  as  those  animals  deprived 
of  reason  ?  An  experienced  groom  never  startles 
his  horse  by  redoubling  his  blows ;  it  becomes 
skittish  and  restive  if  it  do  not  occasionally  feel  a 
caressing  hand.  In  the  same  manner,  a  sensible 
teacher  does  not  unceasingly  threaten  his  pupils ; 
servile  fear  blunts  their  courage,  extinguishes  their 
ardor.  But  there  is  a  much  greater  danger  in  moral 
constraint ;  it  is  that  of  making  them  hypocrites. 
Children  are  naturally  timid  and  full  of  false  shame ; 
it  is  true,  they  are  also  naturally  simple  and  open- 
hearted  ;  but  restrain  them  ever  so  little,  or  give  them 
cause  to  fear  you,  and  they  become  constrained,  and 
never  recover  their  early  simplicity.  The  means  of 
preventing  so  great  an  evil  is,  to  accustom  them  to 
speak  openly  of  their  inclinations  regarding  all  law- 

1  Ne  illud  quidem  quod  admoneamus  indignuni  est,  ingenia  puero- 
rum  nimia  interim  emendationis  severitate  deficere  ;  najn  et  desferaut 
etdolent,  et  novissime  oderimt,  et  quod  maxime  nocet,  dum  omnia  timent, 
nihil  cottantur.  Quod  etiam  rusticis  notum  est,  qui  froiidibus  teneris 
non  putant  adhibendam  esse  falcem^  quia  reformidare  ferrum  viden- 
tur,  et  cicatricem  itondum  pati  posse.  (Quintilian,  vol.  i.  p.  245.) 
Nee  sum  adeo  aetatum  imprudens,  ut  instandum  teneris  protinus 
acerbe  putem,  exigendamque  plenam  operam.  Nam  id  in  primis 
cavere  oportebit,  ne  studia,  qui  amare  nondum  potest,  oderit,  et 
amaritudinem  semel  perceptam  etiam  ultra  rudes  annos  reformidet. 
(Quintilian,  vol.  i.  p.  34.) 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  245 

ful  subjects;  in  order  to  do  that,  they  must  be  al- 
lowed great  liberty  in  expressing  their  thoughts  and 
laying  open  their  souls ;  otherwise  this  early  artless- 
ness  of  the  natural  emotions,  which  is  so  precious, 
becomes  stifled  in  them.  If  they  be  never  left  free 
to  evince  their  weariness,  if  they  be  always  in  sub- 
jection, if  they  be  forced  to  hke  certain  dull  people 
or  certain  tedious  books  which  displease  them,  if 
they  be  represented  harshly,  while  they  are  display- 
ing what  they  naturally  are,  everything  soon  becomes 
for  them  a  source  of  dissimulation  and  a  motive  for 
disguise.  They  become  politic,  dissembling,  indiffer- 
ent to  goodness,  and  secretly  inclined  to  evil :  in  vain 
do  they  appear  more  docile  than  other  children  of 
the  same  age ;  they  are  no  better.  What  do  I  say  ? 
You  have  taught  them  to  outwardly  repress  all  their 
inclinations.  What  comes  to  pass  ?  All  their  bad 
habits,  all  their  defects,  increase,  and  ripen  in  silence. 
Their  flexibility  conceals  a  rebellious  will ;  their  de- 
ceitful disposition  veils  them  from  every  eye ;  you 
never  see  them  in  their  natural  state,  never  know 
what  they  are  at  heart ;  and,  in  fine,  their  evil  nature 
does  not  fully  display  itself  until  it  is  too  late  to  set 
it  right.  It  was  the  fear  of  all  these  disastrous  re- 
sults that  caused  Fenelon  formerly  to  say,  "Never 
put  on,  without  extreme  necessity,  an  austere  and 
imperious  air  which  makes  children  tremble.  You 
close  their  hearts  and  repel  their  confidence,  without 
which  no  fruit  can  be  expected  from  education. 
Bring  yourself  to  love  them ;  let  them  be  free  with 
you,  and  do  not  fear  allowing  yourself  to  see  their 
defects.     In  order  to  succeed  in  it,  be  indulgent  to 

21* 


246  THE    CHILD. 

those  who  do  not  disguise  themselves  before  you. 
Do  not  appear  either  astonished  or  irritated  by  their 
evil  inclinations ;  on  the  contrary,  compassionate 
their  weakness.  Sometimes  the  inconvenience,  that 
they  will  be  less  restrained  by  fear,  arises ;  but,  on 
the  whole,  confidence  and  sincerity  are  more  bene- 
ficial than  rigorous  authority.  Besides,  authority 
will  not  be  permitted  to  find  its  place,  if  confidence 
and  persuasion  be  not  sufficiently  great ;  it  is  neces- 
sary to  begin  always  with  an  open-hearted,  gay,  and 
familiar  manner." 

But,  I  may  be  asked,  must  firmness  never  be  made 
use  of  in  education  ?  Certainly  I  am  very  far  from 
thinking  or  desiring  anything  of  the  kind.  I  have 
already  said,  education  is  a  task  of  firmness.  I  do 
not  know  a  human  task  which  requires  more  of  it, 
and  on  a  future  occasion  I  shall  speak  of  this  great 
and  indispensable  quality  in  the  teacher.  For  the 
present,  I  say  that  firmness  is  not  violence.  I  do 
not  know  of  anything  more  firm  than  that  which  is 
gentle,  nor  of  anything  more  weak  than  that  which 
is  violent.  But  it  is  especially  when  conscience  is  in 
question  that  children  must  be  persuaded  and  in- 
duced to  desire  goodness,  so  that  they  desire  it  freely 
and  independently  of  constraint.  It  is  especially 
when  faith,  religion,  and  piety  are  in  question,  that 
it  is  necessary  to  be  guarded  from  using  compulsion 
towards  them.  Fenelon  eloquently  says,  "  No  hu- 
man power  can  break  through  the  impenetrable  in- 
trenchment  of  liberty  in  a  soul."  And  be  not 
deceived,  a  soul  of  twelve  years  has  in  this  way  a 
power  of  incredible  resistance.     Constraint  will  for 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  -  247 

them  convert  faith  into  a  false  tongue,  piety  into 
odious  formality,  religion  into  a  yoke  of  overwhelm- 
ing hypocrisy.  We  shall  only  succeed  in  making 
them  despise  it  if  we  oblige  them  to  play  there  the 
part  of  a  lying  character,  in  which  it  is  more  impor- 
tant than  elsewhere  that  moral  liberty  should  act  in 
all  its  plenitude.  No,  it  is  necessary  that  children 
spontaneously  find  religion  to  be  beautiful,  amiable, 
august.  In  vain  have  you  worked  if  they  have  a 
sad  and  gloomy  idea  of  it,  if  piety  and  virtue  appear 
to  them  under  the  frightful  image  of  violence,  whilst 
irregularity  presents  itself  to  them  under  a  pleasing 
aspect  and  with  appearances  of  liberty.  All  is 
ruined ;  you  have  labored  in  vain.  Why  does  religion 
present  itself  to  the  immense  majority  of  children 
coming  out  of  establishments  for  public  instruction 
as  cold,  harsh,  stupid,  blighting  ?  It  is  because  it 
has  never  been  anything  else  for  them ;  because 
nothing  has  ever  been  done  to  give  them  any  other 
idea  of  it ;  it  is  because,  thanks  to  official  constraint, 
they  have  never  had  anything  free,  anything  gener- 
ous, anything  spontaneous,  in  their  hearts ;  no  real 
piety,  no  faith.  Ah !  without  doubt,  I  do  not  desire, 
that,  under  pretext  of  respecting  moral  and  religious 
liberty  in  youth,  it  should  be  thrown  into  indiffer- 
ence and  scepticism.  This  extreme  excites  horror. 
It  is  sufficient  to  point  it  out  in  order  to  denounce 
it ;  but  neither  do  I  wish,  that,  under  pretext  of  giv- 
ing them  a  religious  and  moral  education,  religion 
should  become  an  outward  form,  faith  an  imposed 
study,  piety  a  habit  of  hypocrisy,  hence  a  horrible 
scandal.      Whosoever   you   may   be,   priest   or  laic, 


248  THE    CHILD. 

teacher  or  father  of  a  family,  if  in  the  religious  and 
moral  education  of  children  you  know  only  how  to 
command,  to  constrain,  to  make  the  evangelical  and 
moral  law  be  observed  to  the  letter,  you  know  noth- 
ing. You  do  not  understand  the  first  principles  of 
educating  souls ;  you  have  not  the  chief  idea  of  this 
great  work.  When  God  and  religion,  man  and  his 
conscience,  are  in  question,  to  strike,  to  reprehend, 
to  correct,  is  nothing ;  it  is  necessary  to  cause  them 
to  be  loved ;  but  take  care,  in  order  to  do  that,  you 
must  love  them  yourself. 

Permit  me  to  ask  you  how  you  are  in  this  respect. 
Without  any  doubt,  if  you  wish  to  make  a  display  of 
religion ;  if  it  suffice  for  you  to  reduce  these  poor 
children  to  the  exact  performance  of  certain  external 
actions,  beat  the  drum  or  toll  the  bell,  every  one 
rises  up,  every  one  marches ;  if  you  wish  it,  even  if 
you  have  the  determination,  and  they  know  it,  every 
one  trembles ;  you  are  obeyed ;  and  I  see  all  the 
classes  in  your  establishment  advance  towards  the 
chapel,  all  your  pupils  keeping  step,  in  close  ranks, 
in  regular  squadrons,  under  the  guidance  of  their 
masters  of  study.  I  will  quote  the  Archbishop  of 
Cambrai  to  you  :  "  There  is  an  admirable  police  ;  and 
I  desire  a  sincere  religion."  Where  is  it.?  What 
have  you  done  for  it  >  The  more  you  wear  out  these 
children  with  a  cold  and  imperious  constraint,  in 
order  to  make  them  outwardly  fulfil  their  religious 
duties,  so  that  official  inspection  may  never  find 
them  defaulters,  the  more  you  compel  them  to  put 
on  a  masked  and  hypocritical  religion.  Is  this  what 
you  would  wish }     Who  could  say  it .?     Who  would 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  249 

venture  to  believe  it  ?  As  for  me,  I  never  believed 
it.  And  then,  when  this  odious  constraint  has  been 
endured  for  ten  years ;  when  this  child,  thus  placed 
between  a  chaplain  who  preaches  and  hears  confes- 
sions, professors  who  have  no  belief,  and  the  princi- 
pal of  an  establishment  who  imperiously  obliges 
every  one  to  progress ;  when  this  child  becomes  a 
young  man  —  from  his  fifteenth  to  his  twentieth  year 
—  a  wound,  festering  with  hatred  and  irreligion,  is 
being  secretly  formed  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart ; 
he  begins  to  suspect  that  an  odious  comedy  has  been 
played  to  him,i  and  sometimes  twenty  years  are 
necessary  in  order  to  revive  in  that  desolate  soul  a 
spark  of  religious  belief,  a  breath  of  love  and  life. 
Certainly,  those  matters  I  have  pointed  out  here  are 
indescribable  misfortunes ;  and,  nevertheless,  I  have 
not  yet  depicted  all.  What  if,  at  the  same  time  that 
an  outward  constraint  compels  him  to  be  religious, 
there  be  an  interior  constraint,  a  constraint  in  the 
depth  of  the  soul,  forcing  him  not  to  be  so  ?  If  he 
be  at  the  same  time,  as  it  were,  forced  not  to  believe, 
and,  nevertheless,  obliged  to  act  always  as  if  he  be- 
lieved ;  if  there  be  educational  establishments  ^  where 
the  observances  of  religion  are  publicly  fulfilled,  and 
privately  devoted  to  contempt ;  where  compulsion  is 
exercised  in  favor  of  incredulity  and  vice ;  where 
bitter  raillery  pursues  artless  and  pure  virtue  ;  where 
childhood  cannot  love  God  without  becoming  the 
object  of  the  most  insulting  banter;  where  he  must 

1  M.  de  Lamartine. 

2  I  do  not  apply  this  name  ;   such  houses  do  not  merit  such  a 
name  ;  but  I  do  not  wish  to  indicate  any  thing  or  any  one. 


250  THE    CHILD. 

every  day  hear  faith  treated  as  superstition,  piety  as 
hypocrisy,  and  reUgion  as  fanaticism  ;  where  he  can- 
not pray  sincerely  and  collectedly  without  being  ex- 
posed to  the  basest  treatment ;  if  there  be  educa- 
tional establishments  where  poor  children  must  hide 
themselves  in  order  to  receive  their  God  ;  where  even 
the  day  of  their  first  Communion  they  must  try  to 
escape  from,  the  looks  and  the  derision  of  their  older 
companions  ;  if  masters  themselves  be  met  with  giv- 
ing odious  names  to  the  most  touching  evidences  of 
lively  faith,  to  the  last  remnants  of  the  sincere  piety 
carried  from  home ;  if  there  be  educational  establish- 
ments where  evil  morals  are,  as  it  were,  a  necesity, 
and  where  innocence  is  inevitably  shipwrecked ; 
where  the  source  of  the  evil  is  not  only  in  the  pupils, 
but  in  the  domestics  and  the  inspectors ;  where 
abuses  become  propagated,  not  alone  by  example  and 
seduction,  but  are  forced  upon  them,  sometimes  even 
by  violence  and  threats,^ — if  all  that  be  true;  and  if 
there  be,  at  the  same  time,  a  country  where  Christian 
parents,  where  fathers  and  mothers  of  families,  can 
be  induced  by  constraint  or  indifference  to  place  their 
children  in  these  houses,  in  order  to  prepare  them 
for  the  examinations  necessary  for  any  profession  or 
a  career ;  and  if  in  these  same  houses,  besides  this 
frightful  immorality  and  irreligion,  youth  be  con- 
demned, at  the   same   time,  to   submit   to  the  most 


1  We  know  tliis  is  what  M.  Lallemand,  Professor  of  the  Faculty 
of  Medicine  at  Montpellier,  and  invested  with  this  title  by  the  Coun- 
cil of  Public  Instruction,  who  had  chosen  him  on  account  of  their 
confidence  in  him,  reveals,  as  the  results  of  his  most  attentive  obser- 
vations on  the  subject. 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    WILL.  25  I 

fatal  intellectual  constraint  that  ever  existed,  under 
masters  who  have  not  time  to  care,  or  even  to  know, 
the  greater  number  of  their  pupils ;  if  it  be  the 
destiny  of  many  of  these  poor  children  to  vegetate 
thus  under  the  weight  of  hopeless  weariness,  in 
stupidity  of  mind,  in  continued  debasement  of  char- 
acter, in  annihilation  of  heart,  detesting  these  ac- 
cursed places  as  one  detests  a  prison,  and  having  no 
longer  life  or  soul  but  to  sigh  for  the  day  of  enfran- 
chisement ;  and  if,  on  coming  out  from  thence,  and 
before  presenting  themselves  to  enter  any  liberal 
career,  these  young  people  should  meet  with  an  ex- 
amination to  be  undergone,  such  as  would  cause  a 
miserable  failure  to  the  greater  number  among  them, 
and  reduce  them  afterwards  to  fall  back  on  them- 
selves with  all  the  weight  of  their  disappointed 
future  and  their  blighted  youth ;  if  entire  genera- 
tions be  thus  devoted  by  this  deplorable  rule,  I 
would  ask,  what  nation  is  sufficiently  unfortunate  to 
be  obliged  to  submit  to  so  strange  a  social  tyranny  ? 
I  would  ask,  what  youth  is  this,  devoted  to  an  intel- 
lectual and  moral  slavery  so  disastrous  ?  I  would 
ask  if  there  be  not  some  oppressed  conscience  coura- 
geous enough  to  send  forth  a  cry  of  sorrow  ?  I  would 
ask  what  this  nation  has  done  in  order  to  be  judged 
unworthy  of  the  noblest  of  liberties, — the  liberty  of 
the  soul  ?  I  would  ask  the  name  of  this  nation  : 
what  is  its  faith,  its  credibility,  its  place  in  the  orbit 
of  truth  and  justice  in  this  world  ?  I  would  ask  what 
hidden,  mysterious,  frightful  power  weighs  on  its 
destiny  ?  I  would  ask  everything ;  I  would  ask  if 
this  nation  has  been  one  day  cursed  ?     If  it  should 


252  THE    CHILD. 

always  be  so  ?  I  would  ask  if  these  fathers  of  fami- 
lies have  sworn  never  to  be  fathers  ?  if  these  mothers 
have  forgotten  the  rights  and  sacred  duties  of  mater- 
nal authority  ?  And  if  at  length  I  should  be  told, 
This  is  the  great,  the  generous  French  nation ;  well, 
I  would  hide  my  face  in  my  hands,  and  I  would  say 
with  the  philosopher,  ^tas  parentum,  pejor  avis, 
tulit  nos  nequioreSy  mox  daturos  progeniem  vitio- 
siorem. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

OF   THE    CHILD,    AND    THE    RESPECT    DUE    TO    THE 
LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION. 

No  one  is  placed  on  earth  in  order  to  do  nothing ; 
there  is  a  state,  an  office,  a  labor,  for  each.  I  cannot 
conclude  what  I  ought  to  say  regarding  the  child, 
and  the  respect  due  to  the  liberty  of  his  nature,  with- 
out treating  of  a  question  which  is  in  this  place  the 
most  serious  and  most  decisive,  which  is  to  be  found 
at  the  bottom  of  all  others,  and  the  solution  of  which 
appears  to  me  indispensable  for  the  perfect  enlight- 
enment of  the  difficulties  that  we  have  up  to  the 
present  been  examining.  I  wish  to  speak  on.  the 
great  question  of  a  vocation,  and  of  the  choice  of  a 
state  for  each.  Be  it  understood  that  this  question 
concerns,  in  the  highest  degree,  the  liberty  of  the 
child,  his  happiness  in  this  world  and  the  next.  It 
also  touches  on  the  greatest  interests  of  the  family 
and  social  order.  In  speaking  of  it,  I  will  say  every- 
thing that  I  consider  necessary.  At  the  same  time, 
I  will  not  allow  myself  to  be  drawn  into  an  infinity 
of  details ;  but  I  shall  lay  down  at  least  the  general 
and  incontestable  principles  of  the  matter.  There 
are  three  positive  truths.  First,  no  one  is  placed  on 
earth  in  order  to  do  nothing ;  there  is,  then,  a  labor, 
a  rule  of  duties,  a  state,  for  each.     Second,  nothing 

22  253 


254  THE    CHILD. 

on  earth  happens  by  chance.  Providence  governs 
everything  here,  the  most  trifling  events,  and,  with 
much  more  reason,  the  greatest;  there  is,  then,  for 
each  and  every  state  a  vocation  from  God.  Third, 
education  should  prepare  every  one  for  his  state,  his 
vocation ;  this  is  the  consequence  of  that  which  pre- 
cedes. 

Firstly  —  No  one  is  placed  on  earth  in  or- 
der TO  do  nothing.  I  ask  of  my  readers  the  de- 
sire of  following  me  strictly  in  all  the  grave  and  pro- 
found considerations  which  I  ought  to  bring  under 
their  notice.  It  is  here,  especially,  I  have  need  to 
appeal  to  their  most  serious  and  re  collected  attention. 
The  matters  I  have  to  speak  of  will  be  at  times  very 
delicate,  perhaps  even  painful.  I  will  speak  of  them 
with  caution  ;  but,  however,  with  the  simplicity  and 
frankness  which  my  conscience,  the  great  concerns  I 
treat  of,  and  even  my  respectful  devotion  for  those 
of.  whom  I  am  about  to  speak,  command.  There  are 
different  kinds  of  parents,  who  determine,  with  sin- 
gular sincerity,  not  to  require  their  sons  to  do  any- 
thing in  this  world ;  and  who,  in  order  to  justify 
themselves,  bring  forward  motives  or  excuses,  rea- 
sons or  errors,  of  different  natures.  I  have  met  with 
some,  very  virtuous,  who,  having  a  horror  of  the  cor- 
rupt society  of  the  present  age,  said,  "  All  states 
are  perilous.  In  such  times,  the  only  matter  to  be 
looked  to  is  his  salvation.  Since  our  children  are 
condemned  to  pass  through  this  sad  world,  they  shall 
avoid,  at  least  as  far  as  possible,  the  contagion  of  it." 
It  is  true,  this  class  of  parents  is  not  very  numerous. 
I  have  seen  others  who  said,  ''  I  cannot  allow  my 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  255 

sons  to  take  part  in  passing  events ;  my  political 
opinions  are  opposed  to  them,  my  honor,  the  honor 
of  my  family,  does  not  permit  me  to  do  it."  These 
latter  were  most  frequently  to  be  met  with  some 
years  ago ;  the  circumstances  which  dictated  this 
language  to  them  have  changed.  In  fine,  I  have 
seen  a  much  greater  number  of  fathers  of  families 
who  considered  they  found  in  their  wealth  sufficient 
reason  for  exempting  their  sons  from  ail  serious 
labor,  and  leaving  them  without  any  occupation  on 
earth.  It  is  to  these  I  shall  first  reply.  When  par- 
ents in  this  category  came  to  confide  their  sons  to 
me,  and  I  said  to  them,  "  What  shall  he  one  day 
have  to  do,  and  what  do  you  intend  him  to  be  ? " 
some  of  them  appeared  offended.  The  most  benevo- 
lent were  good-naturedly  surprised ;  and  all  seemed 
to  tell  me.  You  do  not  know  us  ;  we  are  not  what 
you  think.  Each  actually  said  to  me,  "  But  my  son 
does  not  want  anything.  His  future  is  certain.  I 
have  labored  for  him.  He  will  enjoy  my  wealth, 
without  being  obliged  to  labor  in  his  turn."  To  all 
that,  I  had,  and  at  present  still  have,  but  one  answer 
to  make  ;  it  is  the  words  of  the  ancient  philosopher : 
Homo  nascittir  ad  laborem,  sicut  avis  ad  volatum 
(Job,  V.  7)  —  "  Man  is  born  to  labor  as  the  bird  is  to 
fly ; "  so  that  living  without  laboring  is  not  only  liv- 
ing outside  the  conditions  of  human  nature,  it  is  ex- 
tinguishing, it  is  stifling,  it  is  annihilating  life  in 
one's  self  ;  it  is  not  living.  Be  not  deceived  on  this 
point.  The  words  of  Job,  in  their  simplicity,  con- 
ceal a  very  profound  meaning.  Yes,  man  is  born  to 
labor ;  that  is  to  say,  for  action,  for  life  ;  for  he  lives 


256  THE    CHILD. 

—  is  somebody  —  only  by  what  he  does.  Whosoever 
does  nothing,  is  nothing,  and  never  will  be  anything. 
Observe  well ;  I  am  not  going  to  speak  here  of  the 
sweetness  of  labor,  and  the  happiness  it  confers  on 
those  who  love  it ;  I  am  not  going  to  speak  of  the 
protection  it  affords  to  virtue,  and  how  it  guards  it ; 
I  will  not  even  speak  of  the  influence  labor  has  on 
the  character,  and  what  strength  it  communicates  to 
it.  I  wish  to  speak  only  of  one  view  respecting  it; 
which  is,  that  labor  is  the  necessary  condition  of  life 
for  every  man  coming  into  this  world.  It  is  essen- 
tially his  vocation  ;  rich  or  poor,  he  ought  to  fulfil  it. 
Those  who  are  not  poor,  and  do  not  consider  it 
necessary  to  work  in  order  to  gain  their  living  labori- 
ously, do  not  understand  sufficiently  how  they  need 
it,  in  order  to  preserve,  to  ennoble,  to  elevate,  the  life 
which  they  received  from  God.  Liberty  is  much 
spoken  of  at  present ;  I  have  spoken  of  it  myself ; 
but  the  law  of  liberty  is  the  law  of  labor.  Liberty, 
activity,  labor,  are  matters  closely  allied.  For  this 
reason,  frivolous  or  idle  people  are  not  made  for  lib- 
erty. What  I  should  especially  call  attention  to  is, 
that  labor  is  the  great  law  of  creation.  God,  in  cre- 
ating the  world,  in  giving  us  life,  has  performed  a 
noble  and  divine  work;  and  we  ourselves  ought  to 
labor  in  order  to  live ;  that  is  to  say,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve, to  develop,  to  elevate,  the  life  God  has  given 
us.  Look  at  all  the  great  faculties  of  the  soul ;  what 
are  they  ?  Active  powers,  which  require  labor.  To 
condemn  them  to  inertness,  to  deny  them  this  gener- 
ous activity,  which  essentially  distinguishes  them 
from  matter,  is  to  disparage,  to  degrade,  to  annihilate 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS   VOCATION.  25/ 

them.  The  corporal  faculties  themselves  cannot  be 
preserved  or  developed  but  by  exercise;  that  is  to 
say,  by  labor.  All  the  physical,  intellectual,  and 
moral  powers  of  man,  which  grow  and  increase  ac- 
cording as  man  uses  them  energetically,  droop  and 
run  to  waste  when  they  are  allowed  to  pine  in  idle- 
ness ;  in  a  word,  whosoever  does  nothing  in  this  world, 
by  that  same  does  wrong;  he  becomes  depraved, 
he  destroys  himself;  and  this  is  one  of  the  mean- 
ings of  the  well-known  saying,  taken  from  the  Holy 
Scriptures:  "Idleness  teaches  every  evil"  —  Omncm 
malitiam  dociiit  otiositas.  Bossuet  fearlessly  gave 
these  forcible  instructions  to  the  son  of  Louis  XIV. 
I  have  often  admired  how  energetically  this  holy 
bishop  exerted  himself  to  make  severe  truths  pene- 
trate the  mind  and  heart  of  that  young  prince.  "  It 
is  not  without  some  benefit,"  said  he  to  him,  "  and  in 
order  that  you  should  not  make  use  of  them,  that 
God  has  given  you  intelligence  and  all  those  noble 
faculties  which  enlighten  you,  and  aid  you  to  recall 
the  past,  to  know  the  present,  to  foresee  the  future. 
Whosoever  does  not  deign  to  profit  by  the  gifts  of 
heaven,  necessarily  makes  enemies  of  God  and  men. 
For  it  must  not  be  expected  that  men  will  respect 
him  who  despises  that  which  makes  him  man,  or 
that  God  protects  him  who  makes  no  account  of  his 
most  excellent  gifts."  In  continuation,  Bossuet  an- 
nounces to  his  pupil,  that  all  the  faculties  of  his 
intellect  will  soon  be  annihilated,  if  they  be  not 
cultivated  by  labor :  "Do  not  commence  in  inatten- 
tion and  idleness  a  life  which  ought  to  be  so  occupied 
and  active.     The  consequence  of  so  beginning  will 

22* 


258  THE    CHILD. 

be,  that,  being  born  with  much  genius,  you  can  only 
impute  to  yourself  the  extinction  or  inutility  of  this 
admirable  hght,  which  is  bestowed  upon  you  as  a  rich 
gift  from  God.  Of  what  use  are  well-made  weapons 
if  you  never  take  them  in  your  hands  ?  So,  likewise, 
of  what  benefit  is  genius  if  you  do  not  apply  it  .'*  It 
is  so  much  loss.  And  as  it  is  with  dancing  and 
writing,  if  you  give  them  up,  you  come,  through 
want  of  habit,  to  forget  both  ;  so  also,  if  you  do  not 
exercise  your  mind,  it  becomes  torpid,  it  falls  into  a 
kind  of  lethargy;  and,  whatever  efforts  you  may 
afterwards  desire  to  make  in  order  to  shake  it  off, 
will  be  too  late.  Shameful  passions  will  spring  up  in 
you ;  love  of  pleasure  and  passion  will  incite  you  to 
all  sorts  of  crimes ;  and,  the  light  which  alone  could 
have  guided  you  being  once  extinguished,  you  will 
be  placed  beyond  counting  on  any  assistance."  It 
is,  then,  true  that  education  should  not  maintain  that 
nothing  is  to  be  done,  and  even  hinder  anything  from 
being  done.  It  is,  then,  true  that  all  on  earth,  rich 
or  poor,  are  called  upon  to  do  something  —  have  a 
labor,  a  vocation,  to  fulfil  on  earth.  It  is,  then,  true, 
whatever  may  be  said  of  man's  inclination  to  idle- 
ness, and  whatever  the  natural  indolence  of  his  char- 
acter and  mind  may  be,  that  labor  and  activity  are 
an  essential  condition  of  his  life,  and  a  requirement  of 
his  nature.  "  By  an  admirable  economy,  every  crea- 
ture pleases  himself  in  using  his  powers ;  the  soul  de- 
lights in  the  play  of  its  faculties,  it  enjoys  it  as  much 
as  it  can ;  so  that  its  true  repose  is  to  be  found  even 
in  labor."  ^ 

1  M.  Ozanam. 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  259 

It  was  not  alone  after  man  had  become  guilty  and 
sinful  that  labor  was  imposed  upon  him  as  a  law ; 
during  his  happy  sojourn  in  the  ancient  Eden,  in- 
nocent man  was  obliged  to  labor :  Posiiit  eiini  in 
Paradiso  vohiptatts,  ut  operaretttr  eiini  (Genesis). 
Labor  was  one  of  the  conditions  of  his  happiness,  of 
his  dignity,  of  his  existence.  It  is  true,  labor,  which 
ought  to  be  but  the  charm  and  ornament  of  his  life, 
soon  became  a  part  of  his  punishment ;  this  formida- 
ble decree,  which  still  pursues  the  most  remote  of 
his  posterity,  was  soon  pronounced  against  him, 
"Thou  shalt  eat  thy  bread  in  the  sweat  of  thy  brow" 
—  In  sndore  vidttis  tin  vesceris  pane  (Genesis). 
"■  But  a  merciful  Will  soon  also  causes  the  chastise- 
ment to  repair  in  a  manner  the  fault,  and  man,  in 
courageously  submitting  to  the  humiliation,  finds 
another  source  of  greatness.  By  fructifying  the 
earth  with  his  sweat,  as  the  sun  fertilizes  it  with  his 
heat,  and  the  clouds  with  their  rain,  he  enters  into 
the  regular  order  of  the  universe.  God  employs  him, 
and  consequently  rehabilitates  him ;  as  soon  as  he 
becomes  useful,  his  merit  begins.  Here  is  the  Chris- 
tian dogma  of  labor,  the  profound  meaning  of  which  is 
no  longer  understood."  ^  Certainly,  after  such  strong, 
such  noble  reasons,  after  such  religious  motives,  I 
have  the  right  to  say  to  those  to  whom  I  am  at  pres- 
ent expounding  my  ideas.  You  wish  to  be  something 
in  this  world ;  you  wish  to  live,  and  do  nothing. 
Well,  all  moral  and  social  laws,  all  natural  laws,  are 
opposed  to  this.     Idleness  is  the  inevitable  ruin  of 

1  M.  Ozanam. 


260  THE    CHILD. 

all  the  faculties.  These  faculties  are  essentially 
active ;  they  require  j^erpetual  culture,  development, 
that  is  to  say,  labor,  or  else  they  will  remain  in  or 
fall  into  fallow.  The  Scripture  says,  they  produce 
but  troubles  and  thorns :  spinas  ac  tribulos.  Bitter 
fruits,  wild  fruits  ;  indeed,  the  only  fruits  they  can 
produce  while  they  remain  uncultivated.  You  wish 
to  be  something  in  this  world,  and  to  do  nothing ;  but 
this  is  really  an  absolute  impossibility ;"  you  would 
do  wrong.  And,  moreover,  doing  nothing  in  this 
world  is  foolishly  desiring  to  escape  the  great  law  of 
human  nature,  which  is  for  man  not  only  the  law  of 
his  preservation,  his  improvement,  and  his  life,  but 
which  is  for  him,  since  the  original  fall,  at  the  same 
time  the  law  of  expiation  and  regeneration.  And 
by  what  right  do  you  desire  that  this  universal  law, 
this  sentence,  which  commands  you  to  fill  up  all  the 
days  that  separate  your  birth  from  your  death  with  a 
noble  and  religious  labor,  should  not  be  accom- 
plished for  you  or  your  children }  You  are  rich ; 
this  excuse,  instead  of  justifying  you,  renders  your 
idleness  more  culpable.  I  will  say  to  you,  with  a 
holy  and  eloquent  bishop,  whose  name  remains  dear 
to  Christian  youth,i  "  If  you  have  been  paid  before- 
hand, is  that  a  reason  you  should  not  earn  your  sal- 
ary } "  We  now  come  to  those  who  pretend  that  the 
times  are  so  evil,  and  that  their  children  have  noth- 
ing to  do  but  seek  their  salvation.  I  will  say  that 
such  subterfuges  and  such  strange  subtleties  are  un- 
worthy   of    their   sense   and    their   faith.      Without 

^  M.  Borderies,  Bishop  of  Versailles. 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  261 

doubt,  it  is  necessary  that  this  child  should  seek  his 
salvation,  and  it  is  his  great  business  in  this  world. 
But  if  it  be  true  that  without  labor  there  can  be  no 
salvation,  and  that  idleness  can  be  nothing  less  than 
a  revolt  against  Providence ;  if  it  be  a  divine  institu- 
tion that  the  faculties  imparted  to  man  ought  to  be 
cultivated  and  developed  by  labor;  if  experience 
demonstrates,  moreover,  that  these  faculties  cannot 
be  left  inactive  without  danger  to  virtue;  in  fine,  if 
it  be  written  that  God  ought,  according  to  the  words 
of  the  Gospel,  cast  into  exterior  darkness  those  who 
have  done  nothing  on  earth ;  if  He  does  not  wish  to 
count  among  His  servants  the  unprofitable  servants, 
what  reply  will  you  have  to  make  at  the  judgment 
of  God,  who  will  demand  of  you  an  account  of  that 
talent  which  He  had  confided  to  you,  of  the  soul 
of  your  son,  of  the  uselessness  and  loss  of  his  life  ? 
Besides,  I  ought  to  add,  labor  is  not  only  the  law 
of  nature,  morality,  and  religion,  for  the  individual 
man  ;  it  is  also  the  law  of  society  for  the  human 
species. 

No  one  on  earth  has  been  created  in  order  to  do 
nothing ;  but  every  one  has  been  created  in  order  to 
be  useful  to  his  kind.  Egotism  can  neither  be  the 
law  of  domestic  society,  which  means  the  Family,  nor 
the  law  of  temporal  society,  which  means  the  State, 
nor  of  the  great  spiritual  society  called  the  Church. 
It  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  labor  for  himself,  but 
it  is  his  duty  also  to  assist  his  fellow-creature ;  and 
he  who  buries  his  life  in  idleness  adds  to  the  wrong 
which  he  does  himself  that  of  culpable  inhumanity  to 
his  brother-man.     What !  every  thing  around  you  is 


262  THE    CHILD. 

in  activity,  every  thing  stirring,  every  thing  moving, 
every  one  laboring ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  this  miiver- 
sal  movement,  you  alone  remain  idle,  sinfully  un- 
profitable, in  a  shameful  repose !  You  seem  to  count 
as  nothing  the  troubles  and  sweat  of  your  fellow- 
creatures.  Their  fatigues  and  their  labors  are  for 
you  but  a  spectacle  which  appears  to  amuse  your 
leisure;  or,  rather,  you  establish  yourself  as  the  im- 
movable centre  of  all  this  motion,  and  you  reap  the 
benefit  of  it  without  relinquishing  your  inaction; 
without  dreaming  of  offering,  in  your  turn,  any  ser- 
vices to  your  fellow-creatures  in  exchange  for  their 
labors.  Labor  is  due  to  your  parents,  to  your  chil- 
dren, to  your  family,  to  your  country ;  it  is  idleness 
that  allows  the  patrimony  of  wealth  or  of  honor, 
which  they  had  received  from  their  fathers,  to  slip 
from  the  hands  of  so  many  unworthy  heirs ;  it  is 
idleness,  which,  like  a  gnawing  worm,  silently  under- 
mines, and  at  length  demolishes,  fortunes  apparently 
established  on  the  most  solid  foundations,  and  pre- 
pares distress  and  contempt  as  sole  heritage  for  the 
sons  of  a  wealthy  and  respected  father.  And  hence 
it  is,  that,  in  great  nations,  so  many  noble  families 
decay,  so  many  noble  names  die  out.  Hence  those 
illustrious  families  become  degraded,  and  sometimes 
disgraced ;  incapable  of  understanding  any  thing,  of 
governing  any  thing,  estabhshing  any  thing,  of  perpet- 
uating any  thing,  and,  in  the  hour  of  public  danger, 
of  saving  any  thing.  Hence  those  ancient  celebrities 
gradually  become  enveloped  in  obscurity,  and  misera- 
bly disappear ;  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  proclaim  that 
it  is,  beyond  dispute,  one  of  the  most  terrible  maledic- 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  263 

tions  which  can  fall  upon  a  nation.  Woe  to  the  na- 
tion whose  great  races  become  degraded  and  die  out ! 
I  am  conscious  I  shock  more  than  one  prejudice  here, 
and  my  language  may  appear  bitter ;  therefore  I  wish 
to  give  my  idea  some  development  in  order  to  explain 
it ;  I  touch  on  the  most  delicate,  and  I  believe  also 
the  most  important,  part  of  my  subject.  I  will,  at 
first,  say  without  circumlocution,  and  without  any 
regard  for  the  prejudices  of  the  times,  I  apply  the 
words  great  family,  great  race,  great  name,  to  those 
families,  those  races,  those  names,  which  have  be- 
come historical  on  account  of  signal  services  ren- 
dered to  their  country,  at  whatever  period  it  may  be ; 
who  have  acquired  their  celebrity  by  fame  of  arms 
in  the  field,  their  skill  in  eminent  negotiations  and 
in  the  management  of  political  affairs,  by  brilliant 
talent,  and  sometimes  genius,  in  science  and  litera- 
ture ;  in  fine,  by  sanctity  of  morals  and  greatness  of 
character  in  the  magistracy  or  the  church.  It  is 
being  descended  from  those  races  which  constitutes 
what,  in  the  French  tongue,  is  called  birth,  of  which 
M.  Royer  Collard  said,  *'  An  illustrious  birth  will  be 
always  a  greatness,  and  respect  for  past  glory  has  its 
source  in  noble  sentiments."  The  authority  of  this 
grave  pubhcist  on  this  point  cannot  be  questioned.  I 
will  again  add  to  the  unquestionable  and  undisputed 
titles  which  constitute  great  families  ownership  of 
the  soil  or  territorial  wealth,  to  the  degree  in  which 
it  becomes  a  social  power.  Here  are  what  I  call  the 
great  families,  the  great  races,  of  a  country.  Well,  I 
acknowledge  without  evasion,  I  love  those  great  fam- 
ilies ;  I   respect,  I  venerate  them,  because   I  love,  I 


264  THE    CHILD. 

respect,  I  venerate  great  memories  and  great  deeds. 
I  do  not  know  any  nation  whose  power  and  glory 
they  may  be,  and  which  has  not  a  natural  tendency 
to  look  to  them  for  its  chiefs,  its  warriors,  its  minis- 
ters, its  principal  magistrates,  its  administrators. 
This  may,  perhaps,  be  a  prejudice,  but  it  is  a  pro- 
found one ;  and  save  in  troubled  times,  when  this 
prejudice  sometimes  becomes  converted  into  hate,  it 
is  always  returned  to.  In  republics,  as  well  as  in 
monarchies,  among  ancient  as  well  as  modern  na- 
tions, the  eyes  of  the  people,  in  the  midst  of  their 
wants  or  public  disasters,  naturally  turn  themselves 
towards  those  illustrious  families,  and  it  is  among 
them  they  always  hope  to  find  more  surely,  more 
abounding,  the  knowledge  of  human  affairs,  the  wis- 
dom of  political  life,  the  experience,  the  devotion, 
the  power,  the  authority,  which  alone  can  govern, 
defend,  or  save,  a  country.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm 
that  in  no  place  has  this  prejudice,  if  it  be  one, 
deeper  root,  nor  does  it  exercise  a  more  irresistible 
power,  than  in  France.  They  who  think  that  revolu- 
tions are  excited  amongst  us  in  order  to  put  an  end 
to  titles  and  pride  of  birth,  strangely  deceive  them- 
selves ;  revolutions  are  excited  amongst  us  rather  in 
order  to  take  possession  of  them ;  every  one  wishes 
to  enjoy  them  in  his  turn,  or  at  least  replace  them 
on  the  scene.  It  is  also  a  curious  fact,  worthy  of 
being  observed,  revolutions  in  our  country  have  only 
multiplied  titles  and  vanities  of  this  kind.  However 
that  may  be,  an  intelligent  nation  will  always  honor 
sentiments  of  hereditary  dignity,  which,  though  en- 
gendering vanity  in   some,  is  not  the  less  eminently 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  265 

rational  and  useful  in  itself.  In  France,  brilliant  merit 
which  rises  from  obscurity  v/ill  always  find  its  newly- 
acquired  fame  sanctioned  by  some  new  title ;  it  must 
also  be  said,  that,  in  spite  of  democratic  progress, 
ambitious  vanity  will  always  seek  to  clothe  itself  with 
borrowed  splendor;  and  this  contagion  spreads  in 
such  a  manner,  that  there  will  soon  be  no  longer  a 
village  in  our  country  that  will  not  have  hidden  with 
its  name  the  obscure  name  hitherto  borne  by  an  un- 
known celebrity.  Without  doubt,  in  this  place,  it  is 
the  abuse  of  right,  but  right  is  forcibly  outliving  it ; 
it  is  reasonable  and  natural,  and  superior  to  all  those 
doubtful  celebrities,  superior  to  all  those  equivocal 
names.  There  will  always  be  great  names,  great 
races,  illustrious  families,  and  also  the  people  will 
always  love  them  ;  as  M.  de  Chateaubriand  wrote : 
"  The  people  will  always  regret  the  tombs  of  some  of 
the  sires  De  Montmorency,  on  which  it  comforted 
them  to  kneel  during  Mass."  ^  And  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand himself  will,  in  spite  of  the  foibles  of  his  life, 
and  in  spite  of  the  surprise  and  the  regret  which 
the  "Memoirs  from  his  Tomb"  caused  to  his  admir- 
ers, leave  behind  as  illustrious  a  name ;  perhaps  his 
tomb  will  also  have  its  pilgrims ;  and  if  I  happened 
to  say  to  the  young  heir  of  his  blood,  or  to  that 
of  one  of  the  heroic  celebrities  of  the  empire,  for 
example,  the  Duke  de  Montebello,  that  the  name 
they  bear  is  nothing,  neither  one  nor  the  other  would 
believe  me,  and  they  would  be  right ;  no  more  would 
the  people  believe  me.     The  rigidness  with  which 

^  "  Genius  of  Christianity." 
23 


266  THE    CHILD. 

they  require  great  virtues  from  great  names,  is  it  not 
in  itself  a  just,  but  unexceptional,  evidence  of  the 
natural  and  instinctive  homage  which  opinion  ren- 
ders to  them  ?  Without  doubt,  a  great  name  is  an 
inheritance  for  a  family ;  and  a  distinguished  man,  in 
giving  lustre  of  birth  to  his  sons,  also  imposes  on 
them  the  obligation  of  his  virtues ;  for,  according  to 
an  axiom  of  honor,  entirely  French,  noblesse  oblige. 
But  a  great  name,  a  great  man,  is  also  the  glory  of 
a  nation  ;  he  is  the  glory  of  humanity  itself ;  for  this 
profound  reason,  that  it.  is  a  name,  that  he  is  a  man, 
in  whom  Providence  has  caused  its  gifts  to  shine 
forth,  and  from  whom  all  claim  their  share  of  this 
honor  conferred  on  human  nature.  Here  is  the  rea- 
son that  national  instinct  will  always  honor  glorious 
names  and  great  races.  If  this  prejudice  has  re- 
mained so  powerful  in  France,  it  is,  perhaps,  because 
no  nation  was  more  rich  in  truly  great  names,  in  real 
celebrities.  The  old  French  nobility  owes  its  an- 
cient honor  and  imperishable  glory  to  the  sacrifice  of 
life  that  it  has  heroically  made  during  fourteen  cen- 
turies. Since  Clovis,  the  Frank  race  has  not  ceased 
to  shed  its  blood  on  all  the  battle-fields  of  Asia, 
Africa,  and  Europe,  for  the  cause  of  God,  the  poor, 
and  the  country.  The  new  nobility  has  also  glori- 
ously conquered,  and  paid  with  its  blood  for  its 
escutcheons,  though  it  should  still  have  need  of  a 
tradition  sustained  by  worthy  heirs,  and  confirmed 
by  time. 

Now,  then,  to  come  down  again  from  these  high 
and  general  considerations  to  the  practical  sub- 
ject which  I  treat  of,  I  will,  without  hesitation,   say 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  26/ 

to  the  sons  of  great  names,  to  the  heirs  of  great 
races,  Among  a  brilliant,  generous  nation,  where 
glory  will  always  be  a  passion,  and  historical  memo- 
ries a  greatness,  as  long  as  you  will  be  worthy  of 
your  great  names,  you  will  be  in  the  first  rank ; 
whatever  those  beneath  you  may  say  against  you, 
you  will  have  the  first  place.  The  nation  itself  will 
give  it  to  you.  Merit  always  being  equal,  it  is  you 
who  will  carry  it  away;  and  if  individual  justice 
seems  hurt  by  this  preference,  there  is  a  higher  jus- 
tice, national  justice,  which  must  be  satisfied.  Yes, 
a  great  name,  supported  by  a  great  education,  will 
always  have  success  in  France ;  and  I  am  happy  in 
saying,  to  the  honor  of  our  times,  model  nobles  are 
not  wanting  to  us  in  this  respect,  even  among  our 
young  contemporaries.  But  to  do  nothing  in  the 
midst  of  this  immense  bustle  of  all  classes,  which 
tends  to  ameliorate,  to  ennoble,  to  elevate,  to  enrich 
them,  by  industry,  by  commerce,  by  agriculture,  by 
the  labors  of  political  life ;  doing  nothing  is  abdicat- 
ing, is  annihilating  one's  self.  Not  to  understand 
that  we  live  in  times  when  it  is  necessary  to  make 
the  wealth  we  have  received  from  our  ancestors  par- 
donable; to  authorize  the  new-comers  of  modern 
society  to  say  that  the  descendants  of  great  fami- 
lies remain,  in  the  midst  of  universal  progress,  un- 
shaken in  their  prejudices  of  race,  stationary  in  their 
wealth,  retrograding  in  their  ideas ;  that  they  do 
nothing,  and  do  not  wish  to  do  anything,  —  it  is  im- 
possible. And  those  of  whom  I  speak  —  do  they 
not  see,  that  when  luxury  and  idleness  are  united 
with   division   of  property,  and   equality  of   inherit- 


268  THE    CHILD. 

ance,  they  diminish,  become  parcelled  out,  and  de- 
voured ? 

Alas  !  with  many,  every  thing  outside  still  glitters  ; 
every  thing  within  is  already  wretchedness  and  ruin. 
Doing  nothing,  simply  from  a  material  point  of  view, 
is  the  annihilation  of  the  only  means  by  which  they 
still  retain  for  themselves  some  superiority  and  prop- 
erty. In  former  times,  they  had  the  glorious  privi- 
lege of  military  service ;  they  were  the  first  in  times 
of  war  to  shed  their  blood  for  their  country.  Cer- 
tainly that  was  something ;  they  became  great  by  it. 
If  culture  of  the  mind  gained  nothing,  the  character 
was  strengthened  by  it.  Generosity,  heroic  devo- 
tion, and  all  the  warlike  virtues  which  have  made  the 
French  nation  the  first  in  Europe,  displayed  all  their 
splendor  in  them.  At  present,  matters  are  changed ; 
the  sword  and  valor  are  always  prized  amongst  us ; 
but  every  hand  may  aim  to  carry  the  sword.  The 
command  of  armies  is  no  longer  a  privilege ;  like  the 
crown  of  Philip  Augustus,  it  is  to  the  most  worthy. 
And  besides,  war  is  dying  out ;  it  seems  to  have 
obeyed  the  ancient  motto,  cedant  arma  togcB ;  it  gives 
place  to  industry,  commerce,  politics,  science,  and 
the  arts ;  it  is  to  this  side  the  future  of  Europe  now 
appears  to  be  tending,  at  least  as  far  as  the  shortness 
of  human  foresight  may  venture  to  predict.  Is  it 
prejudice  or  reason  that  makes  one  disdainfully  re- 
ject extensive  commerce,  great  trade,  frequently  the 
magistracy  itself,  and  the  greater  number  of  public 
careers }  Is  it  just  or  wise  not  to  consider  any 
other  employment,  any  other  glory,  suitable  than  that 
of  arms }     Genoa,  Venice,  Carthage,  and  Florence, 


THE    LIBERTY   OF    HIS    VOCATION.  269 

those  great  queens  of  the  sea,  those  illustrious  rulers 
of  the  commerce  of  the  East  and  the  West,  thought 
otherwise.  Did  not  the  Genoese,  Venetian,  and 
Florentine  nobles  elevate  themselves  by  their  alli- 
ances as  high  as  the  most  ancient  sovereign  houses 
of  Europe  ?  Are  not  those  examples,  that  experi- 
ence, at  least  a  forcible  lesson,  a  decisive  reply,  to  the 
heirs  of  those  great  families  among  us  who  condemn 
themselves  to  do  nothing,  and  who,  as  a  necessary 
consequence,  become  depraved,  abiding  without  intel- 
ligence, without  action,  without  influence  ?  How 
many  times  have  I  not  heard  the  most  eminent  men 
of  the  country  sigh  over  the  fate  of  those  whose 
cause  I  am  at  present  pleading !  —  for  it  is  their 
cause  I  plead  against  themselves.  What  sensible 
man,  what  honorable  woman,  has  not  deplored  the 
life  of  so  many  young  people,  who  appear  to  have  no 
desire  but  that  of  resigning  the  dignity  of  their 
birth,  and,  in  fine,  to  make  use  of  the  too  common, 
and,  alas!  too  well-known  expression,  "Only  know 
how  to  lounge  about  the  pavement  of  Paris!"  The 
pavement  of  Paris,  that  is  to  say,  the  Jockey  Clubs, 
Boulevard  des  Italiens,  unlimited  play,  the  green- 
rooms of  the  theatres,  horses,  dogs,  women,  and 
many  unmentionable  dissipations.  Here  are  the 
deplorable  consequences  of  this  sad  affair,  —  nothing 
to  do.  But  is  not  the  fatal  prejudice,  that  a  real  gen- 
tleman ought  to  do  nothing,  or  at  least  can  do  noth- 
ing, absolutely  the  same  prejudice  that  existed  in  for- 
mer times,  when  esquires  and  lords  maintained  that 
they  ought  to  know  nothing,  not  even  to  read  and 

write;    that   they  were    created    only  to  wield   the 
23* 


2/0  THE    CHILD. 

sword;  and  that  science  and  literature  suited  but 
plebeians  and  the  clergy?  That  prejudice,  which 
had  at  least  something  energetic  and  proud  in  its 
primitive  rudeness,  has  become  more  perpetuated 
than  is  supposed  in  French  ideas,  while  losing  its 
energy.  Hence  this  fear  of  public  education  existed 
in  former  times,  and  still  to  some  extent  to-day ; 
hence  so  many  of  the  children  of  the  nobility,  save 
some  rare  and  honorable  exceptions,  are  condemned 
to  private  education,  that  is  to  say,  too  frequently 
to  effeminacy  of  character  and  mediocrity  of  mind. 
I  heard  a  man  of  great  sense  utter  this  remarkable 
speech  :  *'  A  usurping  and  clever  government,  wish- 
ing to  free  itself  from  the  great  races,  and  outroot 
them  from  the  country,  can  reduce  them,  through 
respect  for  themselves,  to  the  exigency  of  bringing 
up  their  children  in  their  homes  in  the  circumscribed 
sphere  of  private  education  and  a  private  tutor."  I 
have  no  hesitation  in  believing  this  has  always  been 
the  great  danger  of  royal  races  and  princely  educa- 
tions. Bossuet  formerly  expressed  his  ideas  of  it  in 
these  terms  to  the  son  of  Louis  XIV. :  **  What 
makes  men  of  condition,  if  they  be  not  seriously 
watchful,  fall  into  idleness  and  a  species  of  languor, 
is  the  abundance  to  which  they  are  born.  Want 
arouses  other  men,  and  anxiety  for  their  fate  unceas- 
ingly induces  them  to  labor.  Those  who  possess  the 
wealth  necessary,  not  only  for  living,  but  for  pleas- 
ure and  grandeur,  persuade  themselves  they  have 
nothing  to  gain  by  labor.  But  it  must  not  be  sup- 
posed that  wisdom  will  come  to  you  with  the  same 
facility,  and  without  your  laboring  seriously  to  ac- 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  2/1 

quire  it.  It  is  not  in  our  power  to  put  into  your 
mind  what  will  serve  to  cultivate  reason  and  virtue, 
while  you  will  do  nothing.  It  is  necessary,  then, 
you  should  stimulate  and  apply  yourselves  to  labor, 
in  order  that  reason  should  spring  up  in  you.  This 
ought  to  be  your  only  occupation  ;  you  have  only 
that  to  do  and  think  of.  Are  you  not  too  happy  in 
having  matters  disposed  in  such  a  manner  that  other 
labors  do  not  regard  you,  and  that  you  have  only  to 
cultivate  your  mind  and  form  your  intellect  ?"  Louis 
XIV.,  who  had  known,  through  his  own  experience, 
all  the  misfortunes  of  a  neglected  education,  wished 
to  spare  his  son  and  his  grandson  these  dangers, 
and  he  himself  drew  up  with  admirable  strictness 
the  rule  of  labor  for  the  grand  Dauphin.  Here  is 
what  Bossuet  wrote  to  Pope  Innocent  XII.  respect- 
ing it :  "  The  law  of  study  imposed  by  the  king  was 
not  to  allow  any  day  to  pass  without  studying.  He 
considered  there  was  a  great  difference  between  pass- 
ing the  whole  day  in  idleness,  and  taking  some  diver- 
sion in  order  to  relax  the  mind.  It  is  necessary  that 
a  child  should  play  and  be  merry,  —  that  stimulates 
him;  but  he  must  not  give  himself  up  to  play  and 
pleasure  in  such  a  manner  as  not  to  recall  to  mind 
every  day  those  most  serious  matters,  the  study  of 
which  would  languish  if  they  were  too  much  inter- 
rupted. As  the  whole  life  of  princes  is  occupied 
with,  and  none  of  their  days  exempt  from,  great 
cares,  it  is  good  to  train  them  during  childhood  to 
apply  themselves  to  whatever  is  most  serious,  and 
make  them  give  some  hours  to  it  every  day,  in  order 
that  their  minds  may  be  trained  to  labor,  and  quite 


2/2  THE    CHILD. 

accustomed  to  serious  subjects  when  they  shall  have 
to  attend  to  public  matters." 

If  I  may,  then,  give  some  advice  to  those  ancient 
families  who  still  remain  to  France,  I  will  say  to 
them,  Have  no  fear  of  what  is  a  blessing  from 
heaven,  a  numerous  family ;  a  number  of  sons  are 
the  wealth  of  their  father,  their  name,  and  their 
family !  Marry  them  well ;  give  them  wives  of 
sound  constitutions  and  sincere  piety ;  make  worthy 
marriages,  fruitful  and  without  stain,  irreproachable 
alliances,  from  which  will  spring  a  pure  and  healthy 
race.  Bring  up  your  sons  vigorously ;  give  them  a 
solid  and  brilliant  education  in  everything,  and  after- 
wards push  them  forward  in  some  career ;  and,  even 
though  the  equality  of  shares  shall  leave  but  a  mod- 
erate fortune  to  each  of  them,  they  will  be  great  and 
wealthy  by  their  education,  by  their  labor,  by  their 
name,  and  even  by  their  number.  They  will  sustain 
and  strengthen  each  other  in  the  different  posts  to 
which  Providence  and  the  enlightened  solicitude  of 
their  fathers  shall  have  called  them. 

This  is  an  observation  which  will  not  escape  the 
attention  of  men,  of  minds  which  follow  with  a  reli- 
gious and  Christian  glance  the  ways  of  Providence : 
there  is  a  visible,  even  a  temporal,  benediction  for 
numerous  families;  and  I  have  almost  always  seen 
realized  in  their  favor  those  desires  which  they  sub- 
mit to  God,  with  a  noble  dependence  on  His  good- 
ness, and  which,  among  many  others,  are  replaced  by 
culpable,  and,  most  frequently,  impotent  calculations. 
Among  these  numerous  children,  many  at  least  will 
have  distinguished  talents ;  well  brought  up,  they  will 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  2/3 

become  superior  men ;  they  will  do  honor  to  their 
brothers ;  they  will  sustain  their  name ;  they  will 
enrich  their  family ;  they  will  govern,  perhaps  they 
will  save,  their  country  !  Yes  ;  God  will  bless  them. 
Why  do  we  so  frequently  see  great  names  sink  into 
oblivion,  noble  stocks  waste  away  ?  It  is  because 
there  is  but  one  or  two  children  to  be  found  among 
them ;  an  only  son,  perhaps,  who,  effeminately 
brought  up,  has  dishonored  his  race. 

I  have  spoken  of  spoiled  children  ;  it  very  rarely 
happens  that  there  can  be  spoiled  children  in  a  large 
family.  An  only  son  or  an  only  daughter  is  almost 
always  idolized  by  the  family,  and  the  object  of  the 
most  frivolous  anxieties.  There  is  no  serious  care, 
no  elevated  idea,  in  the  education  of  these  children, 
of  whom  they  seek  to  make  beings  destined  only  for 
the  ease  and  enjoyment  of  this  world,  certain  of 
being  wealthy,  without  ever  doing  anything,  without 
ever  laboring,  without  ever  giving  themselves  the 
least  trouble.  How  can  they  expect  that  the  bless- 
ing of  God  will  descend  on  these  miserable  educa- 
tions, and  also  these  pitiful  calculations  of  wealth, 
these  base  and  impious  computations  of  a  future,  in 
which  Providence  is  absolutely  counted  as  nothing  ? 
Without  doubt,  it  is  necessary  that  the  heads  of 
families  should  have,  inasmuch  as  they  can,  impor- 
tance, through  their  wealth  ;  and  this  is  what  our 
modern  laws  have  forgotten  too  much.  But  numer- 
ous branches  are  also  necessary  to  uphold,  extend, 
and  strengthen  each  other. 

Permit  me  to  repeat  again  to  the  heads  of  great 
families,  If  you  know  how  to  give  your  numerous 


274  THE    CHILD. 

sons  a  high  intellectual  education,  they  will  always 
and  everywhere  be  at  the  head  of  their  fellow-citi- 
zens, first  by  valor,  when  it  will  be  necessary.  The 
field  of  battle  will  again  find  you  what  you  have  al- 
ways been ;  your  race  will  not  fail.  They  will  be 
first  also  by  intellect ;  if  you  will  it,  you  have  the 
ability.  The  past  verifies  this.  Witness  Turenne 
and  Conde,  D'Anguesseau,  Cardinal' de  Polignac,  La 
Rochefoucauld,  Fenelon,  and  so  many  others.  Let 
trade  progress ;  it  is  not  destined  to  conquer  the 
world ;  and,  if  it  were,  if  you  leave  traders  to  aspire, 
as  they  do,  only  to  an  ordinary  and  professional  edu- 
cation ;  if,  in  taking  what  is  necessary  from  this  infe- 
rior education,  you  know  how  to  elevate  yourself  still 
more,  to  strengthen,  ennoble,  enlighten  yourself  by 
high  education  of  the  understanding,  —  you  will  still 
rule  all ;  you  will  necessarily  surpass,  you  will  govern, 
you  will  direct  commerce  itself ;  you  will  save  it  from 
its  abuse  ;  you  will  elevate  it  even  to  yourself,  and  you 
will  remain  in  your  place,  what  you  are,  a  Montmo- 
rency, a  D'Harcourt,  or  any  other  of  those  renowned 
names  which  rule  opinion  by  hereditary  prestige. 
But  if  these  glorious  destinies  surprise  you,  if  they 
seem  to  you  beyond  our  age,  still  I  will  not  agree, 
even  though  resigning  them  for  you,  that  you  ought 
to  do  nothing  on  earth.  I  will  never  grant  that  you 
can  be  without  any  labor  in  this  world.  No ;  the 
chase,  romances,  horses,  and  dogs  do  not  suffice  for 
any  thing  and  any  one.  I  will  say  to  you,  with  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  Non  oderis  opera  labofiosa,  et  nisti- 
cationeni  creatam  ab  altissimo  — "  Do  not  despise 
labor,  not  even  the  tilling  of  the  earth,  agriculture, 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  2/5 

which  was  invented  by  the  Almighty ;  agriculture 
is  the  foundation  of  human  life."  Yes;  if  trade 
and  commerce  do  not  suit  you,  be  noble,  and,  if  in 
your  power,  be  distinguished  agriculturists.  That  is 
still  a  beautiful  and  glorious  phase  of  labor.  Be 
faithful  to  the  soil  which  has  made  your  name  and 
your  fortune ;  the  soil  in  its  turn  will  be  faithful  to 
you,  and  the  population  will  pray  for  you.  If  they 
be  less  inclined  to  wish  you  well  during  the  past 
twenty-five  years,  it  is  because  you  have  too  much 
abandoned  them.  Why  despise  your  true  and  solid 
greatness  ?  Why  linger  in  Paris,  leading  a  life  un- 
worthy of  you,  in  ruinous  clubs  of  play  and  pleasure  .'' 
Why  throw  the  remainder  of  your  wealth  into  those 
abysses  of  luxury,  and  all  the  misdemeanors  that 
idleness  leads  to,  rather  than  dwell  honorably  on  your 
property ;  rather  than  strike  those  deep  roots  in  the 
country  which  revolutions  themselves  have  not  been 
able  to  tear  out ;  rather  than  make  yourself  loved 
and  respected,  by  shedding  benefits  on  the  poor  peo- 
ple around  you,  who  only  ask  to  render  you  freely 
that  allegiance  which  they  always  maintained  towards 
your  ancestors }  Why  leave  such  noble  cares  to 
your  men  of  business,  your  stewards,  your  notaries, 
your  advisers,  who  make  themselves  loved  and  chosen 
instead  of  you,  who  really  si^cceed  you,  and  are  to- 
day representing  the  people  in  your  place  ?  There 
is  a  saying  of  the  Scriptures,  the  weight  of  which  I 
pray  God  never  to  let  fall  on  any  one  in  my  country ; 
but  if  there  ever  was  a  terrible  saying,  it  is  one,  and 
worthy  of  being  meditated  on  by  every  one.  Here 
it  is:    "The  votaries  of   pleasure,"   says   the   Holy 


2^6  THE    CHILD. 

Ghost,  ''will  be  eternally  unprofitable" — Atiferettir 
f actio  lascivientiinn} 

Let  me  conclude.  Every  one  on  earth  has  some- 
thing to  do,  a  path  to  follow,  an  end  to  attain,  a  labor 
to  accomplish,  a  place  to  occupy ;  in  a  word,  grave 
obligations,  serious  duties,  to  fulfil.  Labor,  which  is 
the  application  of  the  mind,  is  also  its  power  and  its 
glory.  Without  labor,  without  application,  nothing 
can  be  done,  either  in  this  world  or  the  next.  God 
and  men  despise,  reject,  as  an  unprofitable  servant, 
the  man  who  does  nothing,  who  is  not  available  for 
any  thing.  Application  alone  makes  great  men, 
great  saints,  heroes,  and  men  of  genius. 

All  that  is  rare  to-day,  because  serious  labor,  pro- 
found application,  is  no  longer  understood.  Poets, 
literary  men,  historians,  philosophers,  no  longer 
apply  themselves ;  and  we  know  what  the  greater 
number  of  them  have  become  during  the  last  fifty 
years. 

But,  if  the  troubles  of  the  times  do  not  permit  you 
to  aspire  to  the  management  of  public  affairs,  at 
least  know  how  to  apply  yourself  to  the  management 
of  your  property,  your  family,  your  servants,  your 
children.  Acquire  the  agricultural,  industrial,  even 
commercial  knowledge,  which  the  nature  of  your 
wealth,  your  revenues,  require,  and  in  order  to  men- 
tion by  their  names  those  matters  necessary  for  your 
workshops,  your  mills,  your  lands,  your  cattle.  Ac- 
quire, at  least,  all  that  is  necessary  for  you,  in  order 
to  turn  them  to  good  account.  Rule  your  children 
especially,  and   their  education ;    excellent  work,   to 

1  Amos. 


THE    LIBERTY    OF    HIS    VOCATION.  2// 

which  you  should  never  be  strangers.  Regulate 
your  servants,  so  frequently  left  to  themselves.  Di- 
rect good  works ;  understand  how  to  establish  them 
generously,  to  propagate  them  zealously.  Occupy 
yourself  with  the  villagers  who  surround  you  ;  know 
how  to  make  them  love  you ;  comfort  the  poor.  Be 
in  your  parish  and  in  your  province  a  useful  man,  a 
charitable  adviser.  Improve  everything  around  you, 
—  bridges,  roads,  churches,  schools,  the  parish  edi- 
fices. Above  all,  reflect  upon  this  last  instruction; 
which  is,  Whatever  may  be  the  troubles  of  the  times, 
no  one  can  ever  be  permitted  to  sacrifice  society, 
morahty,  or  religion,  to  sacrifice  himself  and  his 
children  to  the  passing  interests  of  politics,  and  to 
make  revolutions  a  claim  to  doing  nothing.  Can  it 
be  possible  that  France  has  ever  had  statesmen  who 
could  see  with  indifference  what  becomes  of  opulent 
youth  among  us }  Can  it  be  possible  that  any  expe- 
rienced thinker  would  believe  that  the  country  could 
find  its  present  and  future  well-being  in  steeple- 
chases, dandies,  lions,  and  all  the  corrupt  societies  of 
young  people,  who  give  themselves  up  to  them,  and 
who  seem  to  say  to  their  country.  It  must  no  longer 
count  on  us  ?  I  cannot  believe  it ;  it  would  be  too 
strange  a  blindness.  No,  no ;  idle  youth,  gilded 
youth,  however  brilliant  it  may  be,  is  no  advantage 
to  a  country,  either  in  peace  or  war ;  neither  society 
nor  politicians,  neither  religion  nor  morality,  neither 
the  present  nor  the  future,  can  be  satisfied  with  it. 
There  is,  then,  a  place  and  duties  marked  out  for 
every  one  in  this  world.  What  is  this  place  ?  What 
are  these  duties  ?  Who  shall  decide  on  the  choice 
24 


278  THE    CHILD. 

to  be  made  ?  Shall  it  be  chance,  caprice,  or  compul- 
sion ?  No ;  it  shall  be  Providence ;  for  nothing  on 
earth  happens  by  accident ;  nothing,  in  such  a  mat- 
ter, can  be  given  up  to  chance ;  for  each  person, 
for  each  state,  there  is  a  vocation  from  God.  This 
is  what  remains  for  us  to  examine,  in  order  to  clear 
up  the  important  question  which  occupies  us. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

NOTHING  ON  EARTH  HAPPENS  BY  ACCIDENT  ;  THERE 
IS,  THEN,  FOR  EVERY  ONE,  AND  FOR  EACH  STATE, 
A  VOCATION  FROM  GOD. 

No ;  nothing  on  earth  happens  by  accident.  A 
hair  does  not  fall  from  our  heads  but  by  the  will  of 
Heaven,  With  much  greater  reason,  the  employment 
of  our  noblest  faculties,  and  the  labor  of  our  whole 
life,  cannot  be  abandoned  to  the  caprices  of  chance. 
Whosoever  we  may  be,  we  ought,  then,  to  study 
attentively  the  designs  of  God  respecting  us ;  we 
ought  to  seek  religiously  to  know  what  God  requires 
that  we  should  do  on  earth ;  the  place  He  wishes  us 
to  occupy  in  this  world  ;  that  for  which  He  destines 
us ;   in  a  word,  to  what  He  calls  us. 

Applying  one's  self  to  know  this  vocation,  at  least 
in  general  and  with  sufficient  probability  to  satisfy 
an  attentive  and  prudent  judgment,  is  one  of  the 
greatest  duties  of  parents  with  regard  to  their  chil- 
dren ;  it  is  the  foundation  on  which  will  rest  the 
choice  they  shall  have  to  make  of  the  kind  of  educa- 
tion they  will  give  them.  It  is,  indeed,  manifest 
that  to  know  what  a  child  can  and  ought  to  do  in 
this  world  is  the  first  condition  requisite  for  decid- 
ing in  what  manner  he  must  be  prepared  for  it. 
But  they  will  say  to  me.  How  is  the  vocation  of  a 

279 


280  THE    CHILD. 

child  to  be  known  and  to  be  studied  ?  that  must  be 
singularly  difficult.  No ;  to  do  it  at  the  suitable 
time,  and  with  religious  attention,  alone  is  necessary; 
the  indications  of  Providence  are  never  wanting. 
We  have  somewhere  said,  education  continues  the 
work  of  creation.  The  first  matter,  then,  to  be  known 
in  education  is,  how  the  Creator  wishes  to  be  aided  in 
the  development  of  His  work  and  His  designs ;  for 
what  end  He  has  placed  such  a  child  on  earth  ;  to 
what  He  destines  him  :  what  method,  what  kind,  of 
education  suits  best  the  end  it  should  aim  to  attain, 
can  then  be  decided  on  ;  the  destiny  there  is  ques- 
tion of  his  fulfilling;  and  for  that  the  indications  of 
Providence  are  more  explicit  than  is  commonly  sup- 
posed. It  is  rare  when  certain  general  indications, 
very  easily  discerned,  certain  tastes,  certain  capaci- 
ties, certain  very  marked  dispositions,  do  not  deter- 
mine, at  a  sufficiently  early  age,  the  probable  voca- 
tion of  the  child,  and,  consequently,  the  befitting 
education.  Understand ;  I  do  not  speak  of  early 
education ;  that  ought  to  be  nearly  the  same  for  all. 
I  speak  of  that  other  education,  which  extends,  what- 
ever may  be  its  form  and  its  name,  from  ten  to 
twenty  years  of  age ;  and,  without  repeating  in  this 
place  what  influence  the  means  which  education 
has  at  its  disposal  ought  to  have  on  the  child,  it  is 
sufficient  for  me  to  observe,  it  is  at  this  age,  espe- 
cially, the  young  man  perfects  himself,  and  that  his 
vocation  is  decided.  The  kind  of  studies  to  which 
he  devotes  himself,  the  time  he  bestows  on  them,  the 
tastes  they  inspire  in  him,  the  application  he  brings 
to  them,  the  success  he  obtains  in  them ;  the  degree 


EVERY  ONE  HAS  A  VOCATION  FROM  GOD.   28 1 

and  extent  to  which  his  intellect  attains ;  the  first 
emotions,  good  or  evil,  which  the  passions  cause  him 
to  display ;  the  features  of  character  more  or  less  de- 
hneated;  and,  in  fine,  the  influence,  more  or  less 
strong,  of  grace  ;  the  supernatural  inclinations  which 
it  sometimes  gives  for  certain  more  perfect  voca- 
tions,—  these  are  the  means  of  studying  and  know- 
ing to  what  God  calls  him,  what  God  requires  that 
he  should  do  on  earth.  At  the  same  time,  I  do  not 
desire  nor  ought  I  to  exaggerate  anything  here.  The 
choice  of  a  state  has  almost  always  sufficiently  great 
latitude ;  there  are  different  vocations  more  or  less 
perfect.  The  masters  of  ethics  acknowledge  that  if 
there  be,  among  these  vocations,  some  at  times  more 
arbitrary,  from  which  one  cannot  withdraw  himself, 
except  at  the  risk  of  imperilling  everything  in  his 
life,  there  are  others  more  independent,  among  which 
hesitation  is  permissible,  even  proper.  The  reason 
of  it  is  very  simple.  How  many  professions  are 
there,  among  which  the  differences  are  so  trifling 
a  matter,  that  preferring  one  to  the  other  is  mani- 
festly without  appreciable  importance ! 

I  do  not  expect,  then,  that  the  vocation  can  be  de- 
termined with  rigorous  precision,  even  to  its  most 
trifling  details ;  but  what  I  maintain  is,  that,  at  least, 
the  kind  of  vocation  is  usually  indicated  by  means 
easily  recognized,  and  that  error  would  be  full  of 
danger.  For  example,  living  in  the  world  or  living 
out  of  the  world ;  the  religious  state  or  the  married 
state ;  here  are  vocations  and  states  entirely  different 
from  each  other.  And  even  in  the  numerous  worldly 
states,  there  are  some  of  them  totally  unlike ;  for  in- 
24* 


282  THE    CHILD. 

stance,  the  gown  or  the  sword,  agriculture  or  trade, 
the  navy  or  civil  service,  the  career  of  literature, 
sciences,  or  arts.  These  various  careers  require 
such  different  capacities,  that  choosing  blindly  or  by 
chance  for  a  young  man,  among  professions  which 
resemble  each  other  so  little,  would  be  manifestly  to 
overshadow,  to  overcast,  to  paralyze,  his  whole  life ; 
it  would  be  binding  him  to  a  life  for  which,  perhaps, 
he  was  never  intended,  and  in  which  success  and 
happiness  would  be  morally  impossible  for  him. 
Hence,  as  the  differences  between  the  principal 
kinds  of  vocation  are  strongly  marked,  it  is  easy  to 
avoid  error,  little  trouble  as  one  may  wish  to  take,  by 
studying,  with  the  double  assistance  of  attention  and 
time,  the  differences  which  are  to  be  met  with  among 
the  physical,  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  dispo- 
sitions of  the  various  children. 

The  supernatural  influence,  if  he  aspire  to  the  su- 
pernatural and  more  perfect  vocations,  and  whatever 
be  the  vocation  he  aspires  to,  the  capacity  which  ren- 
ders him  fit  for  such  or  such  profession  ;  the  want  of 
capacity  which  removes  him  from  it ;  the  inclination 
and  taste  which  facilitate  the  study  and  success  of 
it ;  the  evil  dispositions,  the  deficiencies,  the  pas- 
sions, that  would  find  in  such  a  state  fatal  nourish- 
ment, which  must  be  denied  them  ;  the  good  disposi- 
tions, the  virtues,  which  find  in  such  another  state 
the  happy,  fruitful  support  which  must  be  afforded 
them  ;  in  fine,  assuming  and  wisely  considering  all 
the  rest,  the  circumstances  of  birth,  fortune,  social 
position,  favorable  opportunities,  the  openings  which 
present  themselves,  and  which  seem  to  be  manifesta- 


EVERY  ONE  HAS  A  VOCATION  FROM  GOD.   283 

tions  of  Providence,  —  such  are  the  most  notable  indi- 
cations by  which,  with  any  sort  of  certainty,  the 
vocation  of  a  young  man  becomes  revealed.  By  ob- 
serving these  indications,  by  following  them  with 
prudent  circumspection,  we  shall  very  rarely  be  de- 
ceived ;  if  we  are  sometimes  deceived,  which  hardly 
ever  occurs,  it  is  in  cases  where  the  error  cannot  be 
serious,  because  the  differences  will  be  of  trifling 
importance,  and  the  vocation  less  obligatory.  But 
parents  or  teachers  must  not,  in  this  respect,  vio- 
lently urge  children  with  respect  to  this.  Their  lib- 
erty ought  to  be  respected.  They  can,  they  ought 
to  enlighten,  and  betimes  prepare  and  direct  them ; 
but  to  urge  and  drive  them  by  compulsion  into  such 
or  such  a  state,  never ! 

As  to  the  more  perfect  and  supernatural  vocations, 
I  shall  speak  of  them  somewhat  in  detail  in  a  forth- 
coming work,  when  I  shall  treat  of  the  liberty  of 
ecclesiastical  vocations,  and  the  respect  due  to  them. 
At  present,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  saying  simply 
this.  Without  doubt,  every  one  in  this  world  can, 
with  the  assistance  of  God,  raise  himself  to  great 
eminence.  The  sphere  of  truth  and  virtue,  like 
that  of  goodness  and  divine  grace,  is  immense ;  and 
there  is  for  each,  in  the  designs  of  Providence, 
a  degree  of  relative  perfection,  which  it  is  permis- 
sible for  him  to  attain  ;  this  is  what  we  may  with 
St.  Paul  call.  Voluntas  Dei  bene  placens  et  peifecta. 
But,  alas !  how  few  succeed  in  it !  many  degener- 
ate. For  these  latter,  God,  in  His  mercy,  may  re- 
serve vocations  less  perfect,  and  a  future  less  high, 
but  which  can  always  be  good  and  generous  if  they 


284  THE    CHILD. 

be  faithful.  It  is  still  life  and  salvation.  But  there 
are  some  who  fall  below  all  limits  and  the  entire 
will  of  God;  these  are  they  who  desire  to  do  nothing 
in  this  world,  or  who  do  nothing  but  evil,  not  tak- 
ing any  account  of  the  laws  of  their  Creator.  For 
these  last,  it  is  ruin ;  it  is  intellectual  and  moral  deg- 
radation ;  it  is  eternal  death  :  Ad  iiihihmi  redact 21s 
est  in  conspectii  ejus  inaligniLS.  But  whatever  may 
be  the  latitude  permitted  to  each  in  the  choice  of  the 
various  vocations  possible,  it  is  manifest  that  this 
choice,  bUnd  or  enlightened,  happy  or  unfortunate, 
conformable  or  contrary  to  the  order  of  Providence, 
will  have  a  singular  influence  on  the  future,  and 
make  the  happiness  or  woe,  the  shame  or  honor,  of 
life  —  the  glorious  promise  or  utter  failure  of  an  en- 
tire existence.  For  this  reason,  parents  ought  not 
only  not  give  way  to  their  personal  vanity,  their  ambi- 
tion, the  desires  of  self-love,  but  should  also  guard 
well  against  too  lightly  placing  their  faith  in  the  cer- 
tainty of  omens  which  may  be  indifferent  or  premature. 
They  must  have  a  religious  caution  for  the  liberty  of 
the  child,  leaving  the  good  disposition  to  be  declared 
by  himself ;  the  influence  of  grace  marks  out  the  de- 
signs of  Providence  ;  the  capacities  gradually  reveal 
themselves;  the  talents  become  declared  and  certain; 
in  a  word,  they  should  study  attentively  the  order  of 
Nature  and  Providence,  in  order  to  obey  it.  Truth 
strangely  forgotten  in  our  days,  when  the  greater 
number  of  vocations  and  professions  are  decided  at 
random,  and  without  any  serious  examination  ;  when 
we  see  children  who  seem  to  be,  by  the  most  mani- 
fest indications  of  Providence,  called  one  day  to  gov- 


EVERY  ONE  HAS  A  VOCATION  FROM  GOD.   285 

ern  their  country,  or,  at  least,  to  fill  the  most  impor- 
tant civil  or  political  posts  in  it,  brought  up,  permit 
me  to  say,  as  if  they  were  one  day  to  be  only  paint- 
ers or  musicians,  or  even,  to  descend  still  lower, 
huntsmen  or  grooms.  The  most  remarkable  among 
them  draws,  if  you  will,  or  sings  more  or  less  agree- 
ably ;  they  will  say  he  is  a  distinguished  man ! 
What  will  he  have  performed  during  his  life.'*  per- 
haps filled  an  album !  Again,  the  greater  number 
will  know  only  how  to  dance,  fence,  and  ride. 

"  Pour  loute  ambition,  pour  vertu  singuliere, 
II  excelle  a  conduire  un  char  dans  la  carriere," 

Racine  formerly  said.  How  many  young  men  of  our 
day  confine  all  their  ambition  to  that ;  and,  strange 
coincidence  !  curious  contrast !  in  this  same  country 
we  see  a  multitude  of  other  children,  not  predestined, 
either  by  the  wish  of  Nature  or  the  call  of  Provi- 
dence, to  rise  in  any  way  above  the  crowd,  and  who, 
imprudently  brought  up  to  a  kind  of  life  for  which 
God  has  not  intended  them,  contract,  in  the  theatre 
of  a  false  education,  tastes,  luxurious  habits,  immod- 
erate wants,  which  prepare  for  their  whole  life  the 
uneasiness  and  torments  of  an  ambition  which  it  will 
one  day  be  necessary  to  satisfy,  perhaps,  at  any  price. 
Frightful  error !  which,  by  its  consequences,  hollows 
beforehand  in  the  path  of  the  man  an  abyss  of  crime 
or  despair,  and  almost  always  both!  What,  also, 
frequently  comes  to  pass  ?  While  the  first,  citizens 
without  worth,  fathers  of  families  without  righteous- 
ness, are  not  capable  of  bringing  up  their  children 
nor  managing  their  property,  and  originate  or  hasten 


286  THE   CHILD. 

the  decay  by  which  names,  illustrious  during  a  long 
period,  are  going  at  last  to  be  extinguished  in  obscu- 
rity, and  sometimes  in  ignominy ;  the  second  pro- 
duce those  envious,  turbulent,  factious  generations,  to 
whom,  in  spite  of  their  mediocrity,  all  wealth,  all 
social  superiority,  is  a  hateful  spectacle,  an  insup- 
portable burden ;  unhappy  men,  who,  in  the  bitter 
vexation  of  their  rebellious  pride,  raise  disturbances 
in  the  bosom  of  society,  in  order  to  spring  violently 
above  their  condition,  and,  tormented  by  dreams  of 
unmeasured  cupidity,  at  length  find  repose  only  in 
their  own  ruin,  or  the  overthrow  of  public  order. 
Which  are  the  most  culpable  ?  Certainly  the  ques- 
tion is  of  trifling  importance ;  but,  if  it  be  my  duty 
to  solve  it,  I  will  say,  Those  for  whom  God  and  soci- 
ety had  done  so  much,  and  who  do  not  wish  to  do 
anything  for  Him,  for  themselves,  or  for  it ;  who  re- 
tain no  remembrance  of  their  name,  their  ancestors, 
or  their  past  glory ;  who  destroy  in  themselves  the 
brightest  hopes  of  the  country,  and  so  many  valuable 
gifts,  which  perhaps  will  never  be  found  again ;  in 
fine,  who  allow  the  most  elevated  and  priceless  powers 
of  a  great  nation  to  become  enervated  and  swallowed 
up  by  the  effeminacy  and  indolence  of  their  lives  ; 
I  will  say,  these  latter  irritate  me  more  profoundly, 
discourage,  dishearten  me ;  these  latter  would  cause  me 
to  despair  of  the  future,  if  it  were  not  for  Providence, 
the  moral  influence  of  the  Church,  and  the  destiny 
of  France.  Excuse  the  bitterness  of  my  grief  and 
my  words  ;  and,  in  order  to  justify  them,  permit  me 
to  make  a  more  general  reflection,  which,  I  trust, 
will  not  appear  too  harsh ;  I  protest  I  do  not  at  least 


EVERY  ONE  HAS  A  VOCATION  FROM  GOD.   28/ 

intend  it  to  be  so ;  it  is  a  simple  matter  of  fact, 
which  every  one  will  find  within  the  limits  of  his 
own  experience,  and  which  will  one  day  throw  a  new 
light  on  the  thesis  I  now  maintain,  respecting  the 
importance  of  a  state,  or  some  vocation  whatsoever, 
for  each  individual,  and  the  danger  of  false  or  defec- 
tive vocations.  When  one  has  studied  human  nature 
in  the  child,  that  is  to  say,  from  its  starting-point, 
and  followed  it  through  the  different  ages  of  man, 
even  to  the  extreme  confines  of  life,  he  is  struck  by 
the  number  of  rich,  intelligent,  ardent,  brilliant,  hon- 
est, and  virtuous  natures  stopped  short  in  their 
flight,  cramped  in  their  energy,  obscured  in  their 
brilliancy,  not  displaying  what  they  have  received, 
and  only  leaving  it  to  be  divined  by  its  flashes  ;  abor- 
tive intellects,  unworthy  of  themselves ;  paralyzed, 
contracted  hearts ;  noble  creatures,  whom  an  impov- 
erished sap,  turned  from  its  course,  has  rendered 
apathetic,  incomplete,  sterile ;  carrying  off  the  most 
beautiful  hopes  of  religion,  home,  and  society,  and 
making  shipwreck  of  the  high  destiny  which  God 
had  prepared  for  them.  From  whence  arises  this 
misfortune  ?  Most  frequently  from  a  false,  a  defec- 
tive vocation.  These  are  the  people  who  have,  or 
wish  to  have,  nothing  to  do  in  this  world,  which  is 
the  most  serious  of  disorders,  and  the  greatest  of 
dangers ;  or  those  who,  not  having  studied  either 
their  own  character  or  the  designs  of  Providence, 
have  wished  to  do  what  was  not  intended  for  them. 
Alas !  I  speak  with  too  much  experience  of  this ; 
and  I  fear,  during  some  moments,  and  against  my 
will,  a  sorrowful  emotion,   which  is   not  bitterness, 


288  THE    CHILD. 

but  the  too  justifiable  accents  of  a  devotion  fre- 
quently betrayed  in  its  holiest  and  dearest  aspira- 
tions !  What  thoughtless  parents  !  What  rash  and 
hasty  decisions  in  the  most  serious  business  of  life .' 
How  many  young  people,  even,  have  I  not  seen  called 
upon  to  decide  their  own  destiny,  deluding  them- 
selves most  strangely,  and,  by  a  blind  choice,  bind- 
ing their  intellect  and  their  will  to  a  profession  for 
which  they  were  not  prepared  themselves,  giving  and 
stamping  with  frightful  levity  a  wrong  direction  to 
their  life,  in  an  age  of  passion  and  inexperience ;  fix- 
ing the  limits  of  their  virtue,  and  acting  the  same 
part  even  towards  their  religion ! 

On  all  sides,  also,  how  many  erring  vocations  and 
misplaced  existences !  how  many  disappointments ! 
how  many  minds  led  astray,  characters  lessened,  vir- 
tues compromised,  services  and  hopes  destroyed ! 
And  these  young  people  become  men,  old  men,  such 
as  they  are  brought  up ;  for  the  child  becomes  the 
young  man,  the  young  man  the  mature  man,  the 
mature  man  the  old  man ;  in  fine,  all  form  society, 
this  society  which  has  many  rules,  but  no  resources, 
against  the  greater  number  of  the  evils  which  devour 
it,  and  which  has  neither  laws  nor  remedies  against 
these  evils.  I  deceive  myself ;  not  only  has  society 
neither  laws  nor  remedies  against  such  evils,  but, 
strange  to  say,  it  has  laws  to  create  them,  laws  to 
hallow  them,  laws  against  the  remedies  for  these 
evils. 


CONCLUSION. 

Then  —  for  it  is  time  we  should  sum  up  all  this 
book  and  these  details  —  to  form  man,  and  prepare 
him  for  the  various  social  offices  he  will  one  day  be 
called  to  fill  on  earth ;  to  form  man  by  this  general 
education,  which  may  be  suitably  called  the  perfec- 
tion of  human  education ;  to  form  him  by  an  educa- 
tion suitable  to  the  vocation  Providence  assigns  to 
him,  his  social  position,  his  talents,  and  his  particular 
tastes ;  to  form  man,  —  that  is  to  say,  this  noble  crea- 
ture, gifted  with  intelligence,  reason,  and  free-will, 
created  for  happiness  ;  to  form  man,  intelligent,  up- 
right man,  with  his  ordinary  faculties  and  his  individ- 
ual qualities,  such  as  society  and  religion  require 
him ;  man,  above  all,  with  a  pure  and  powerful  intel- 
lect in  a  vigorous  and  healthy  body  —  mens  sana 
in  corpore  sano ;  the  man  of  sense,  judgment,  and 
taste ;  the  man  of  heart,  the  man  of  character ;  the 
man  of  disciplined  mind,  of  easy  and  clear  utter- 
ance; the  man  of  firm  and  upright  will,  according 
to  the  degree  of  sense,  imagination,  character,  or 
genius,  which  is  the  stamp  of  his  individuality;  the 
man  of  enlightened  faith  and  confirmed  conscience ; 
man  such  as  God  has  created  him,  and  as  Jesus 
Christ  has  regenerated  him  ;  man  such  as  the  provi- 
dential progress  of  the  world  has  perfected  him  ;  the 
man  of  his  age  and  his  country,  in  accordance  with 
25  289 


290  THE    CHILD. 

the  wisest  and  happiest  meaning  of  these  two  words  ; 
in  fine,  the  Christian,  for  this  name  includes  all ; 
and  we  do  not  fulfil  our  high  mission  if  we  do  not 
know  how  to  form  Christian  hearts,  and  bring  up,  in 
accordance  with  Christianity,  and  even  the  Gospel, 
those  whom  society  confides  to  us. 

Such,  then,  is  the  work  education  ought  to  accom- 
plish, and  it  is  by  that  it  will  form  men  for  society 
without  endangering  it  or  them,  and  that  it  will  have 
the  power  of  producing,  in  every  step  of  the  social 
hierarchy,  men  perfected  according  to  the  means  and 
extent  suitable  to  each,  in  order  to  exalt  them  to 
eternal  life.  We  shall  now  ask.  Have  we  exagger- 
ated in  any  way  by  saying  education  is  a  divine  work, 
and  in  giving  to  it  so  high  and  decisive  an  impor- 
tance with  respect  to  the  dignity  and  happiness  of 
individuals,  families,  and  all  society  ?  I  understand 
that  such  a  theory  may  be  exposed  to  meet  with 
more  than  one  astonished  or  even  incredulous  smile 
in  an  age  which,  to  the  present  day,  seems,  at  least, 
hardly  to  understand  the  dignity  of  education,  and 
which,  perhaps,  will  consider  what  we  speak  of  as  an 
absurd  theory,  and  a  speculation  impossible  to  be 
realized  in  practice.  Well,  no  ;  permit  me  to  express 
frankly  all  my  ideas  here.  No,  it  is  not  an  absurd 
theory;  for  it  is  by  converting  this  theory  into  prac- 
tice, all  Europe  has  been  elevated  to  the  highest  civ- 
ilization ;  and  if  France  has,  during  a  long  period, 
kept  her  place  at  the  head  of  modern  nations  — 
queen  of  civilized  Europe  —  it  is  to  this  fine  and 
vigorous  education  she  owes  this  glory.  No,  it  is 
not  a  foolish  theory,  a  speculation  impossible  to  be 


CONCLUSION.  291 

realized.  I  willingly  cry  out,  Shame  and  woe  to  the 
teachers  of  youth  who  could  look  on  it  thus  !  If 
there  exist,  and  there  will,  even  to  the  end  of  this 
sad  world,  a  creature  really  worthy  of  the  elevation 
of  this  theory,  and  the  respect  which  it  professes  for 
the  greatness  of  his  origin,  and  if  the  practice  of  it 
were  impossible,  he  should  despair  of  humanity,  of 
his  country,  of  his  family,  of  himself ;  in  fine,  of 
God  and  His  Providence.  Teachers  of  youth,  who 
do  not  yet,  perhaps,  understand  these  matters,  guard 
yourselves  from  receiving  them  with  a  silly  and 
haughty  disdain.  Are  you,  then,  ignorant  of  what 
is  in  question  here,  and  what  interests  are  confided 
to  you  ?  It  is  human  nature,  it  is  man  and  his  off- 
spring ;  they  are  the  children  of  God  who  are  re- 
mitted to  your  care.  No,  no,  it  is  not  a  speculation 
impossible  to  be  realized !  While  there  shall  still 
remain  on  earth  a  creature  of  this  race,  of  whom 
God  has  said,  **  Let  us  make  man  to  our  own  image 
and  likeness,"  the  education  of  man  will  be  the 
grandest  of  works,  a  providential  and  sacred  labor,  a 
task  entirely  divine,  a  priesthood.  While  there  shall 
remain  on  earth  intelligences  which  God  has  created, 
capable  of  knowledge  and  wisdom,  capable  of  truth 
and  light,  capable  of  thought  and  memory,  capable 
of  science  and  genius,  it  will  be  beautiful,  it  will  be 
praiseworthy,  it  will  be  divine,  to  labor  for  the  educa- 
tion, the  intellectual  elevation,  of  such  noble  crea- 
tures. While  there  shall  remain  on  earth  a  heart,  a 
conscience,  a  character,  a  human  will,  it  will  be  beau- 
tiful, it  will  be  praiseworthy,  it  will  be  divine,  to 
mould  them  to  the  love  of  what  is  true  and  upright, 


292  .  THE    CHILD. 

to  enthusiasm  for  what  is  noble,  elevated,  generous, 
to  a  holy  passion  for  what  is  great  and  sublime. 
Yes,  while  there  shall  remain  on  earth  a  son  of  man 
inspired  by  this  divine  breath,  which  makes  him  the 
king  of  creation,  and  the  immortal  image  of  the  liv- 
ing God,  he  should  be  brought  up  in  the  knowledge 
and  love  of  his  high  destiny,  and,  in  order  to  do 
that,  established  by  this  high  education,  the  theory 
of  which  surprises  you,  in  the  integrity,  the  strength, 
the  plenitude,  and  the  power  of  his  incomparable  fac- 
ulties. While  there  shall  remain  on  earth  one  of 
those  whom  God  has  visibly  created  in  order  to  be- 
come, by  science  and  the  love  of  natural  and  super- 
natural objects,  the  centre  of  creation,  and  to  con- 
template the  heavens,  it  will  be  beautiful  to  teach 
him  by  what  efforts,  by  what  studies,  by  what  intel- 
lectual, moral,  and  religious  elevation,  he  ought  to 
render  himself  superior  to  all  that  which  God  has 
submitted  to  his  eyes  and  the  investigations  of  his 
intellect ;  it  will  be  beautiful  to  teach  him  by  what 
admirable  ways  he  can  attain,  from  the  insignificant 
point  he  occupies  on  earth,  to  everything,  even  to 
the  extremity  of  his  empire ;  study  the  most  sublime 
mysteries  of  nature ;  measure  with  certainty  the  im- 
mensity of  the  heavens ;  penetrate  even  to  the  bow- 
els of  the  earth;  and,  by  discovering  its  treasures, 
contemplate  all,  from  the  grass  and  the  flowers  of 
the  field,  which  live-  but  a  day,  and,  before  dying, 
humbly  reveal  to  him  their  names,  their  species, 
their  properties,  and  their  virtues,  even  to  the  sun, 
which  is  the  measure  of  centuries,  and  by  which  he 
can  follow  with  his  eye,  in   the  vast  spaces  of  the 


CONCLUSION.  293 

firmament,  the  path  that  this  planet  itself  blindly 
traverses.  While  there  shall  remain  a  son  of  man  on 
earth,  it  will  be  beautiful,  it  will  be  praiseworthy,  to 
teach  him,  above  all,  that  it  is  by  the  noble  alliance 
of  knowledge  with  virtue,  of  literature  with  wisdom, 
of  science  with  faith,  of  arts  with  religion,  he  can 
succeed  in  cultivating  his  faculties  to  the  highest 
power  of  genius ;  to  this  power,  by  which  the  mind 
of  man  with  a  single  thought  embraces  the  universe, 
places  himself  on  its  ultimate  limits,  and,  without 
becoming  pale,  looks  beyond ;  to  this  power  of  an 
almost  divine  activity,  which  bounds  to  the  heights 
of  the  heavens,  and  descends  again  with  rapidity  to 
the  depths  of  the  abysses ;  which,  by  the  powerful 
glance  of  history,  embraces  and  rules  every  century, 
contemplates  and  judges  the  present  century,  which 
is  the  measure  of  his  passing  existence,  and  plunges 
without  terror  into  the  centuries  of  an  unbounded 
future.  While  there  shall  remain  on  earth  any  of 
these  souls  whom  God  has  created  so  great,  and  that 
they  should  not,  when  arriving  even  at  the  extreme 
hmits  of  time,  despair  either  of  themselves,  or  of 
the  times,  or  of  the  world  which  completes  and 
breaks  up  behind  them,  it  will  be  praiseworthy,  it 
will  be  beautiful,  it  will  be  divine  —  divine  to  teach 
them  with  what  faith,  with  what  hope,  they  should 
magnanimously  spring  into  eternity.  And,  in  fine, 
if  a  bishop  may  be  permitted  to  proclaim  the  height 
to  which  Christian  education  should  raise  itself,  we 
say  that  it  is  to  that  of  revealing  to  those  whom  it 
brings  up,  even  during  their  early  years,  how  Chris- 
tians, fallen  from  heaven,  can  find  again  the  road  to 
25* 


294  THE    CHILD. 

it  with  certainty,  and  laboriously  re-conquer  the  glory 
of  it.  It  is,  then,  for  Christian  education  to  teach 
its  disciples  gradually  that  the  entire  world  is  noth- 
ing; that  they  ought  to  know  how  to  despise  the 
earth ;  and  that,  the  farther  they  advance  in  life,  the 
more  they  will  find  of  narrowness  and  evil  in  those 
inferior  regions  which  hold  them  captive ;  and  that 
if  they  desire  to  satiate  the  thirst  for  happiness  which 
lies  deep  in  their  nature,  and  the  intense  eagerness 
of  their  souls,  it  is  at  the  foot  of  the  altars  of  evan- 
gelical grace  that  they  will  find  wings  in  order  to  fly 
far,  very  far,  away  from  that  which  is  for  them  but  a 
disgraced  and  blighted  kingdom,  even  into  the  invisi- 
ble regions,  where  they  can,  with  a  real  right,  aspire 
to  possess  God  Himself,  and  become  united  with 
Him  in  the  splendors  and  delights  of  eternity.  But 
if  some  men  of  the  present  age  still  find  this  specu- 
lation too  elevated,  permit  me  to  tell  them  it  is  be- 
cause they  have  remained  too  long  disciples  of  that 
eighteenth  century,  the  impious  levity  of  which 
despised  human  dignity,  at  least  as  much  as  it  out- 
raged Divine  Majesty,  and  whose  theories  of  educa- 
tion were  so  profoundly  subversive  of  all  social  and 
religious  order,  of  all  authority,  and  of  all  respect. 
But  the  rising  generation  repels  far  from  it  the  abject 
doctrines  and  teachings  of  this  gross  philosophy.  I 
have  profound  confidence  in  it ;  generous  understand- 
ings will  not  be  wanting  among  us,  elevated  minds, 
for  whom  this  beautiful  theory  will  not  be  absurd, 
nor  this  high  speculation  impossible  to  realize,  and, 
in  a  word,  who  understand  what  a  child  is,  and  the 
respect  due  to  the  dignity  of  his  nature. 


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APTig  1937 


I — jArrrzoorfi 

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